Too little, too late?
by Gertrude2034
Summary: They lost a baby seven months ago and she ran away from him and her feelings. Now she’s back in House’s life. Will what happened bring them together or drive them apart? House/OC. Warnings for medical stuff, language and sex scenes. Pt 2 of the trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Angst, angst and more angst, with a touch of romance and a heap of medical drama. Seems I can't get enough of torturing poor House and any OFC unfortunate enough to find herself in kissing distance of him. This is kind of a sequel to Too Much Too Soon, but doesn't matter if you haven't read it. In fact, probably best not to. I hope this is a better story than that one – it was my first attempt at fiction writing and I'm kind of hoping that I've improved as time has gone along! I never intended to do a sequel, but then I had some real life experiences of some of the medical issues here and with a bit of extra research, thought I might as well make use of the knowledge…

**Warnings:** If gynaecology makes you squeamish, this probably isn't the story for you. Also some bad words and sex scenes.

**Medical stuff disclaimer:** I've done my research people, but I'm also not above twisting a few medical facts for dramatic purposes. Hey, if it's OK for_ House_ writers to do it, then I figure I can too. However unlike the _House_ writers, I don't have a team of qualified doctors to check facts with so I'm sorry if anything isn't exactly technically correct.

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**Chapter 1 **

Chloe reached across the boardroom table to hand out papers. A familiar sharp pain in her abdomen caused her to grit her teeth and grimace slightly as she stretched. She hoped none of her clients had noticed. She sat back and continued presenting, ignoring the pain that continued to nag at her.

The client meeting was convenient, giving her a work reason to fly into town. But what she was really there for was far more important. She was desperately hoping that her doctor's appointment that afternoon might shed some light on the pain she'd been experiencing for the past seven months – ever since the last time she'd been in New Jersey.

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She walked into the foyer of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital feeling slightly sick with nerves. She had no idea what she'd do if she ran into Greg House and actually had her fingers crossed as a talisman that she hoped would get her through to Dr Wright's consulting rooms without so much as catching sight of him.

Of course, life wasn't meant to be that easy.

House was in the clinic, just signing out after his morning shift. He looked up and through the glass doors saw Chloe Parker crossing the hospital foyer. He knew it was her instantly, and without thinking he dropped his pen and raced across to catch her before she disappeared into the elevator.

Chloe had just pressed the button for the second floor and the doors were sliding shut when a cane inserted itself between the doors, pulling them back. Chloe took a deep breath, trying to prepare for the face she knew she'd see as soon as the doors opened.

Sure enough, there stood Greg House. Despite her anxiety she still couldn't help remembering why she'd found him so attractive, why they'd gotten into the mess they had in the first place.

"Hello there," House greeted her. Likewise, he was struck by how attractive she was, her tumbling brunette curls, green eyes and full mouth giving her the slightly exotic look of a 1940s movie star. Like most times he'd seen her, she was power-suited, shapely legs emerging from her navy pencil skirt and tapering into the stylish heels she always wore to make up for her short stature. But in comparison to the last time they'd met she was thinner and had a drawn, tired look about her face.

He also realised he'd acted without thinking and now that they were face-to-face he had no idea what more to say to her.

An older woman in the back of the elevator coughed politely as House and Chloe's silent staring dragged on and the elevator dinged impatiently to be set free.

House made a snap decision and stepped into the elevator next to Chloe.

They rode up to the second floor in silence, standing next to each other. He was close enough that Chloe could smell him, feel the heat from his arm next to hers. He looked just as she remembered, maybe a little tired, but still that irresistible combination of scruffy and charming.

House was still searching for something to say when the elevator doors slid open and Chloe stepped out. No, he realised, he was not stuck for something to say, just where to start. He followed her and grabbed her arm, steering her into a deserted seating area near the elevators. His anger from seven months ago – the phone calls he'd made that had never been returned – bit him sharply. How could she come back here unannounced and not expect him to be angry?

Then it occurred to him that they weren't on his floor. He'd assumed that she'd come to the hospital to see him, but why had she got out on the second floor? Suddenly it dawned on him: gynaecology and obstetrics were on two.

"Why are you here?" he asked bluntly.

"I have an appointment with Dr Wright," Chloe explained, reluctantly. She didn't want him to know, but also saw no point in lying – knowing him and his resourcefulness, she was sure he'd find a way to get the information anyway.

"And I'm going to be late if you don't let me go," she said irritably, shrugging his hand from her arm where he still gripped her.

"Why are you seeing him?" he asked bluntly.

"Just popping in to say hello," she answered sarcastically.

"Right. I'm coming with you." House started walking towards Wright's office. If she wasn't going to tell him what was going on, he'd find out for himself.

"No!" Chloe exclaimed loudly, attracting the attention of a passing nurse who paused briefly to see if things were alright.

"I mean, that's not necessary," Chloe said, her voice lowered.

House paused. His primary emotion towards this woman right now was anger. Chloe had walked out of his life without a word, and she'd rejected his attempts to make contact. He felt spurned and betrayed – after all, he'd honestly tried and she'd just disappeared. His anger was also finely sharpened by guilt: guilt at how he'd treated her just before they'd parted – uncertain how to respond and plagued by doubts, he'd avoided her. It was only after she left, after he'd had time to think, that he desperately wanted to talk to her. Wanted to talk about what had happened, what might have been, what it meant. She'd denied him that.

But if she was still sick, if there was something wrong with her because of it all… He felt a confusing conflict of anger and concern churning inside him.

Chloe felt her own guilt strongly. She knew that half the reason she was so anxious about running into him was that she felt badly about how she'd behaved after she'd left New Jersey. But she also didn't feel under any obligation to share the agony of the past months with him.

"It's just…" she said haltingly, "…it'd be best if you left me alone. Please."

She headed down the corridor to the consulting rooms, leaving House standing wordless behind her.

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**A/N: **With thanks to LadyFr for being an encouraging and supportive beta!


	2. Chapter 2

Chloe sat opposite the white-haired, crinkle-eyed Dr Wright. Just seeing his kind face again was stirring emotions from the last time she'd seen him. She felt dangerously close to tears. He looked up from reviewing her file.

"So how have you been Chloe? What brings you back to see me?"

As Dr Wright spoke, the door to his office swung open and House walked in.

"Sorry I'm late," he said with a grimace, plonking down on the chair next to Chloe.

Chloe was stunned. But then, she realised, this was just like him. Of course he wasn't going to take 'go away' at face value.

House had watched her walk down the corridor. He'd even gone back to his office and sat down for a few minutes. Then his burning curiosity had further inflamed his anger and he found himself striding angrily back to the second floor, still without entirely understanding why.

Dr Wright looked momentarily confused, but then recovered. He didn't cross paths with Dr House very often, and had been around too long to be bothered with hospital gossip, so he had no idea whether or not they were still a couple. He gave Chloe a questioning look.

Chloe put her head in her hands, needing a moment to think. Trying to get rid of House would cause a scene. And he _was_ a doctor after all – a good one at that. At this point, eliminating the pain was her key focus and if he could help then perhaps it was good that he was here. She rationalised the medical benefits and tried to ignore the many personal reasons screaming at her to get rid of him. She looked up and gave a slight nod to Dr Wright.

"So, where were we?" Dr Wright continued. "Chloe, tell me what's been happening."

Chloe's speech was familiar. She'd repeated it to at least three other doctors at home. They'd all found nothing wrong. Finally her gynaecologist had suggested seeing her original surgeon again; perhaps he might have further ideas. That's how she'd ended up back in New Jersey, back to Dr Wright.

"I've been in constant pain since…" she couldn't help but pause and give a sideways glance to House, "…since the surgery. Some days it's bearable. Some days I can hardly walk. I can't work properly, I can't concentrate."

"Describe the pain." House interrupted.

Dr Wright sighed. _So this is how it is going to go_, he thought.

"It changes. Mostly, like now, it's a dull throb. Sometimes it's a sharp stabbing pain. Sometimes the stabbing pain goes on for hours. It's deep inside, like it's in my bones. Sometimes it feels hot," Chloe struggled to adequately describe the indescribable sensation of being in agony.

"Where is the…" House started before the other doctor interrupted.

"Dr House, you're here as an…" Wright searched for an appropriate term, "…an _interested party.__I'm_ here as the doctor. Could you please let me ask the questions?"

House rolled his eyes, but sighed and leant back in his chair to signal his abdication from authority.

"Go on Chloe," Dr Wright prompted.

"It goes from my hip joint into my pelvis," Chloe explained, rubbing her hand across the lower right-hand side of her belly in illustration. "The pain is sometimes like back ache, sometimes right in my hip joint and sometimes more like period cramps.

"I've been to three different doctors back home. All of them ran tests and did scans. They found scarring from the surgery but nothing that would explain the level of pain. Finally one of them suggested coming back to see you because you did the surgery and you might have some further ideas."

House was mentally reviewing the symptoms and proposing and discarding diagnoses. He started silently laying out his proposed course of action. He'd want a pelvic exam and an ultrasound, possibly a CT scan if there was nothing concrete from those. Then the usual round of blood tests of course, and they should check her HCG levels just in case.

"Did you previous doctors test your HCG levels?" Dr Wright asked, in unknowing echo of House's thoughts.

Chloe was now familiar enough with the medical terminology related to her situation to know what he was getting at.

"No, it's not a persistent ectopic," she said, robotically. "My HCG has been normal every time it's been tested, which means the surgery was clean, nothing left behind."

"OK," Dr Wright said, "before we go any further, I'd like to do an exam and take some blood." He stood and gestured toward the screen and examination table at the back of the room.

House nodded approvingly, they were on the same track.

Chloe stood and started to move toward the examination table. But she knew she didn't want House there for the procedure. She couldn't bear the thought of him peering intimately at her in a clinical, doctoring fashion and she knew he wouldn't sit meekly by her head, holding her hand. She swallowed hard and forced herself to speak, knowing the argument she was in for.

"Greg, I'd prefer it if you left the room."

House looked shocked, his surprise causing him to say the first thing that popped into his head.

"But I've seen it before!" House's words and his self-righteous tone caused Dr Wright to suck in a breath, gob-smacked by the other doctor's tactlessness. He knew most women didn't like the thought of their romantic partners taking part in this kind of procedure, doctors or not. And there was obviously something strange going on here, something more than just Chloe being bashful.

Chloe closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to pretend he hadn't just said that.

"Greg, that's not the point," she said, flatly.

"But," House's confusion was mounting. It just made sense that he was there for the exam. He could help diagnose her better if he saw for himself than if he just had to go by Wright's scribbled notes. Besides the man must be at least 60, what if his failing eyesight or arthritic hands missed something?

"But, I'm a _doctor_!" he protested.

"Also not the point," Chloe replied.

"But…" House trailed off, realising his logic was failing him. His next point had been _But I'm the one who did this to you_. Which was ridiculous, of course.

With a last acidic look at both Chloe and Wright, House rose and walked out of the room.

Chloe let out a ragged breath.

"Are you OK?" Dr Wright asked, concerned at her now pale face.

"I'm fine," Chloe said. "Let's just get this over with."

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Chloe walked out of Dr Wright's office half an hour later with a cotton ball taped to the inside of her elbow, a slip of paper booking her in for an ultrasound the next day and a further appointment with Dr Wright for the day after that. She'd have to delay her flight home, but that would be OK.

Over her years of loyal service she had accrued weeks of sick leave and although her employers were not thrilled with her patchy work record over the past seven months, they'd been surprisingly understanding. They'd been strongly hinting that the client in New Jersey was keen for her to relocate to be more available to them. She decided to call her boss and ask for the next couple of weeks off to investigate whether or not she'd want to take that step. And it was also probably a good idea to take some time to go through the tests than continue to try to balance work and illness.

Now she just had to decide what to do with the rest of the afternoon.

She could follow up on her meeting from that morning, but that wasn't urgent. She'd already checked into her hotel, so she could just go have a nap.

But the anxiety that had been nagging at her all day hadn't gone away. She knew what it was about and realised that it wouldn't leave her until she did something about it. Even if it was the last thing she felt like.

She stopped a passing nurse.

"Excuse me, could you tell me how to find Greg House's office?"

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House sat at his desk, irritated and restless. He'd just had what should have been a satisfying yell at one of his fellows for messing up a simple stress test on a patient. But it hadn't provided the relief he'd expected. He was still angry and confused. Why had he bothered to go to Chloe's appointment? Why had she let him stay but then kicked him out? Why did he even care? _She_ was the one who'd disappeared without a word.

He started sorting through files, slamming them down in piles on his desk with unnecessary force. His distraction meant that Chloe had walked almost all the way up to his desk before he realised she was there.

"What did those papers ever do to you?" she asked lightly, wondering about the depth of his anger.

A little startled by her presence, House stopped mid-sort and looked up at her.

"I imagine these pieces of paper are better at returning phone calls than some people," he said bitterly, the words out before he could stop them. "At least they have given me a second thought in the last seven months."

Chloe felt physically sick at his accusation. She hadn't expected him to be so forthright. Feeling a little weak, she grabbed for a chair and sat down.

House dropped the files in his hand onto the nearest pile and sat back in his chair. They regarded each other frankly for a moment.

"Greg, I…" Chloe started, wincing slightly as she unconsciously pushed a hand into her belly, trying to quell the pain in her abdomen that had started pulling harder. "I'd like to talk…"

They were interrupted by the sound of an argument; three doctors had entered the adjoining conference room and were loudly discussing a case. The door between the office and the room was open, and at any moment they'd turn around and see Chloe and House talking.

"Not now," House said bluntly, one ear on the conversation in the next room.

Chloe nodded. Impulsively, she grabbed a pen and post-it note from his desk.

"I'm staying at the Park Hyatt. This is my room number," she said, writing it down. "And my cell phone in case you don't have it any more. Meet me in the bar in the foyer?" she added, making it a question.

"It'll be about eight before I can get there," House replied, judging from the conversation in the next door meeting room that he was still in for a long afternoon.

"That's fine, see you then." Chloe rose, stifling a small groan as the movement provoked a sharp stab of pain. She left his office without looking back, her teeth gritted. Once she was sure she was out of his line of sight, she leant against the wall, gasping at the hot swords stabbing into her. Her pain killers were back in her hotel room. She'd just have to make it.

House watched her leave. He fully recognised the look on her face as she'd left. It was the look of someone who was exhausted by being in pain. It was a look he knew well.

He grabbed his cell phone and scrolled through the contacts. Chloe Parker. Of course he still had her number. She'd almost had his child.


	3. Chapter 3

Chloe sat in a quiet corner of the foyer bar nervously running her fingers up and down the stem of her wine glass. She'd chosen carefully from her virtual pharmacy of pain killers, not wanting to be drowsy or hazy for their conversation. She'd laughed a little as she'd held her very own vial of Vicoden in consideration, but decided to save that for afterwards. It always made her sleepy.

He couldn't have been more wrong when he'd accused her of not giving him a second thought. She'd thought of him every day since they'd parted. And of course she had her constant pain as reminder of what had happened to her – to both of them, as she had belatedly acknowledged.

His face had swum into her mind immediately when her second doctor had prescribed her Vicoden. She recalled how he popped the cap and swallowed the pills dry, like candy. The first time she'd taken a dose it had knocked her out for eight hours; she'd been late to work. She'd been amazed to think back at how many he took every day. Amazed at the insight into how much pain he must experience, although he rarely complained. She'd never wish what was happening to her on her worst enemy.

It was almost half past eight and Chloe was getting nervous. What if he didn't turn up? Then she realised that she'd be relieved if he didn't. It could be his revenge on her, she could feel punished for her sins, and perhaps both of them could get on with their lives.

Just as she was thinking that, she saw him coming through the foyer towards the bar, immediately recognising his strides – improbably fast and long for someone who walked with a cane.

House looked around and saw her sitting in a dimly lit corner. She looked up at him and smiled tentatively. He gestured toward her, wordlessly asking if she needed a drink. She held up her almost empty wine glass and shrugged.

House made his way to the bar, ordering a whisky for himself and a red wine for Chloe, surprising himself that he still remembered exactly what she preferred. As he waited to pay for the drinks, he tried to sort out his conflicted feelings about even being there. Primarily, he wanted an explanation. He wanted to know why she'd shut him out. But there was more to it. He was, he had to admit, concerned about her. And, despite himself, still attracted to her, even though all they'd done so far was argue.

The bartender handed over his change. "I'll bring your drinks right over, sir."

House nodded and walked over to Chloe, sitting opposite her in a rounded lounge chair.

"Hi," she said, a little shyly.

"Hi," he replied.

The bartender appeared with their drinks and a bowl of rice snacks, placing them out on the table with exaggerated care, then left them to their corner.

"This must be a crappy hotel," House said insultingly before the bartender was out of earshot. "They can't even afford peanuts."

Chloe smiled at his comment; she had always enjoyed the sharp combination of embarrassment and amusement he'd often caused her.

"It's not too bad. They have a jar in the room with English candy," she explained. "They've got a royal crest on them and everything."

House gave a wry smile and then leant back into his chair and looked at her blandly. Although he wanted to hear what she had to say, he wasn't going to make this easy for her. After all, she was the one who'd come into his office, she was the one who'd said 'I'd like to talk'.

"Thanks for the drink," Chloe said, struggling now that he was actually here. What on earth had possessed her to do this? Wouldn't it have been better to leave everything as it was? Confusing and painful, but in the past?

"Welcome," he said simply.

"So, how have you been?"

"Just peachy. You?" House replied.

"I think you know pretty much everything after this afternoon," Chloe responded irritably, starting to get annoyed with his glibness and feeling renewed anger at his performance during her doctor's appointment.

"No actually, I don't." House spat at her as he picked up the tone in her voice. If she was going to get annoyed then he was going to raise her. "I did try to find out though. You might remember several phone calls that you avoided, messages that you didn't return? You didn't even let me know that you were coming back here. God Chloe, after what happened, don't you think I wanted to know how you were?"

Chloe's irritation vanished and she felt sick and shaken, knowing his accusations were fair. She had behaved badly. She'd had her reasons at the time, but now they seemed flimsy and unjustifiable.

She took a long sip of her wine to give her time to respond, her hand shaking slightly as she lowered the glass back to the table.

She stared up to the ceiling for a moment as if looking to it for strength, then leant over to him, resting her hand on his thigh, looking into his still angry eyes.

"Greg, I'm sorry," she said, heart-felt. "I'm really, really sorry."

House saw the apology in her eyes, saw them welling with tears. He still wasn't ready for forgiveness, still needed an explanation, but he saw the truth in what she was saying.

"Why?" he asked simply.

Chloe moved back, out of his personal space, removed her hand from his leg. She took a deep breath and tried to explain to him something she wasn't sure she could explain to herself. Like a wild animal wounded, she'd wanted to retreat from the world; she just hadn't expected the loneliness would be so hard to bear. She'd been standing on her own two feet since she was a teenager and hadn't expected to struggle with it as an adult, despite being ill.

"I honestly missed your first call. I did mean to return it. But that night the pain was really bad and if I called, I didn't know how I could talk to you about it. I knew you didn't want to, you know, talk about what happened, and that was all I could think about."

House felt the prick of his guilt usurping his anger for a moment. Given the way he'd behaved after her surgery, it was hardly unexpected that she thought he didn't want to talk about what had happened. She could not have realised that once he'd had time to think, what he really wanted was to talk with the only other person in the world who could possibly be sharing his feelings: doubt, loss, anger, and about a million 'what ifs'.

"When you rang the second time I was into a new round of tests. It's not fair, I know," she looked at him, pleading with her eyes for him to understand what she was about to say, "but I was really angry with you. I blamed you for what was happening to me."

House shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It sounded distinctly unfair coming from her, even though he'd been thinking similar thoughts for a long time.

"And then when you called after that, I don't know, I just couldn't work out how to tell you why I hadn't returned your earlier calls. And I didn't know how to talk to you about what was happening to me. It wasn't necessarily about losing the…" Chloe paused. She'd never said the word 'baby' aloud in relation to what had happened and she wasn't going to start now. "… but just that…"

She trailed off and took a deep breath, trying to decide how to explain the whirl of emotions and thoughts that had been going through her mind over the past seven months.

"I've just always been healthy, you know? I kind of took it for granted that I always would be. I feel, I don't know, betrayed by my own body. I just never thought I'd be one of those sickly people," she said with evident distaste, "always complaining about being in pain and popping pills…"

She stopped sharply, realising what she'd said.

"Oh," House nodded, on the defensive now. "Perhaps it was a good idea that you didn't call me back after all."

He picked up his whisky and swallowed it in a shot.

Chloe hung her head in her hands. "See? I knew I'd mess it up," she muttered.

She lifted her head and looked up at him. "There hasn't been a day in the last seven months that I haven't thought about you."

"Yeah, well that doesn't really count for much if your thoughts have been about how much you hate me," House countered, still hurt by her comments.

Chloe smiled sadly. "No, even when I hated you, I still loved you."

Chloe couldn't believe that the words had left her mouth. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, despairing over her own inability to say the right thing. Telling him she loved him was the last thing she'd wanted to say. Even if it might be true.

House stilled, he hadn't expected that. And he was at a loss on how to respond.

"Um, that wasn't what I meant, I just.." she fumbled and trailed off, deciding saying anything further would just make it worse.

"Do you want another drink?" he asked, deciding to ignore her comment for the moment.

She shook her head. "No, thanks, I think I need to call it a night." Chloe's head was spinning slightly and her pain killers were wearing off. She also couldn't trust herself not to say something even more inappropriate if she had another wine.

House nodded. "OK."

They both stood and Chloe felt the room spin around her. A sharp pain made her gasp and bend into it, causing her to lose her balance. House reached out to grab her, wrapping an arm around her waist, steadying her.

Chloe reached for him as she staggered, feeling his strong arm wrap around her. She regained her balance and felt her equilibrium return to normal, but she couldn't bear to bring herself out of his embrace for a moment.

"Sorry," she murmured into his chest. "Two glasses of wine, no food and pain killers are probably not a good combination."

He hugged her to him for a moment, inhaling her familiar scent, remembering the happier times they had shared, the way he'd bragged to Wilson about her perfection. He released her, looking into her face, reaching for her wrist to feel her pulse. It was a little fast but not abnormal.

"Feeling OK?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," she blushed, embarrassed by her display of weakness. She tried to stand straighter as if to prove her point.

"Let's get you up to your room." House put a hand on her back, propelling her forward.

"I'm OK, really," Chloe protested, not wanting him to take care of her.

"Yeah, well let me be the judge of that. I'm familiar with what it means to be _sickly_ remember?" he said sarcastically.

Chloe hung her head a little, shamed. She led the way to the elevator bank and pressed the up button, noting that he walked close to her the whole way.


	4. Chapter 4

Once in her hotel room, House looked around, taking note of the plush décor and large bed. He reached into his pocket and slipped a pill into his hand, not wanting Chloe to see him do it, still sensitive about her earlier remarks.

"This place seems familiar," he said.

"I was staying here that first night we met," Chloe reminded him. "Not this exact room, I don't think, but then they probably all look the same."

She opened her bag and pulled out a vial of pills. She was embarrassed by her almost desperate need for the pain killers and tried to cover it with a joke.

"I've got my very own Vicoden," she shook the pills at him.

"Well aren't you a lucky girl," he said sarcastically, deciding he no longer needed to hide his tablet from her. "But can you do this?" He threw it up in the air and ostentatiously caught it in his mouth.

Chloe smiled at him, then copied his actions, although as soon as she swallowed the pill she grimaced at the chalky, bitter taste.

"Ugh, how do you do that without water?" she exclaimed, moving into the bathroom to fill a glass and gulp it down.

"It's amazing what you can get used to," House said quietly, not sure if she heard him.

Chloe returned from the bathroom and stood looking at him. She started to laugh a little, astounded at where life had led them.

"What's so funny?" House asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing really, I just never thought I'd be back at this hotel with you, bragging about his and hers Vicoden."

House snorted. "Yeah, I guess it is kind of ridiculous." He smiled at her, the first genuine smile she'd seen since they'd met again. It still had exactly the same affect on her as it had when she'd first seen him: made her feel mushy all the way to her toes.

"Would you… do you want to stay here tonight?" Chloe asked hesitantly. "I mean, just as, you know, friends. It's late and the bed's huge so it's not like we'd have to…"

She stammered, embarrassed, feeling like a teenager.

House checked his watch. It wasn't even ten o'clock, so it wasn't that late really. He had to be in at the hospital early the next morning to check on the test results from his current patient. And he'd parked his bike with the valet; leaving it overnight would cost him a bomb. So with all those reasons going through his head, he couldn't have been more surprised when he heard himself agree to her proposal.

"I guess I could."

Chloe smiled, relieved and nervous; butterflies in her stomach at the thought of being in bed with him again. She grabbed her nightgown and headed for the bathroom.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll get changed in here." She closed the door behind her.

House stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers, throwing back the covers and climbing into bed. He grabbed the remote control and turned on the TV, thinking if things were different, he'd suggest they watch some porn. He realised that in the all the time they'd known each other he'd never been in bed with her without making love. But she was the one who said 'just as friends' so maybe she didn't want him in that way anymore. Maybe she just wanted the companionship, the comfort of another warm body. He knew how that felt too.

Chloe emerged from the bathroom and turned off the lights until the room was lit only by the flickering glow of the television.

She climbed into bed, being very careful to stick close to the edge. The TV was showing an episode of one of the ubiquitous crime and pathology dramas.

They lay in silence for a while, watching the show, Chloe clinging to her side of the bed.

"Oh, for Christ's sake come here," House said, crossly. "I think we can manage to touch each other without doing any damage." He reached over and grabbed her around the waist, dragging her into the middle of the bed, against his side. He gestured for her to lift her head and put one arm around her shoulders. After a moment's hesitation, she curled into him.

With his arm wrapped around her and through her filmy nightgown, House could feel the physical effects the last few months had wrought on her. She felt fragile, her bones more evident, her previous softness sharpened. Surprising himself, the main emotion this provoked in him was sadness, not pity; sorrow at the loss of her rounded belly, full breasts and gentle female curves.

They continued to watch the program, a blood-filled story about a deranged serial killer. Chloe hid her face in his t-shirt during the goriest scenes.

After it ended, House clicked off the TV, plunging the room into darkness. He moved his arm out from under Chloe and turned on his side to face her.

They lay, face to face in the dark for a long while, their breath mingling.

"I'm sorry too," House whispered, hesitantly, the darkness somehow conducive to the telling of secrets.

"What for?" Chloe whispered back, curious.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't… more helpful, more supportive, when… when you were in hospital," he stammered.

Chloe thought back to her time in the hospital. Sure, he hadn't been sitting by her bedside, holding her hand. And absolutely she knew that it was because he had been unsettled, found it hard to talk to her about what they'd been through – unless it was to play the doctor. In fact, they'd never even discussed it. But she also remembered that first night in hospital, how he'd wrapped her in his arms, let her cry, held her until she slept.

"You were a bit supportive," she said, "but not especially helpful."

House nodded, accepting of her assessment.

"Do you ever think about what might have happened if it wasn't ectopic? If you hadn't miscarried?" House asked hesitantly. The question had been plaguing him since she'd left and he hadn't been able to ask it of anyone else.

"Of course," Chloe whispered in answer. She'd tried not to, but it had been like an unstoppable film unspooling in her head.

"Would we have kept it?" he asked. He'd asked himself numerous times and had never had a satisfactory answer.

She sighed a little, but didn't answer.

"What if we had?" he prompted. He paused for a moment, knowing what he'd give away with his next statement.

"You'd have been due next week."

"I try really hard not to think about that." Chloe was surprised that he had obviously kept track. She grimaced a little, despite the Vicoden, her pain was coming back, a nagging dull agony.

"On the eighteenth," he added.

_Of course he had worked out the exact date_, Chloe thought to herself. She had deliberately avoided doing it. She knew it would have been sometime around her own birthday, but she didn't want to curse herself with a precise date in the future when she knew she'd feel like crap.

"I wish you hadn't told me that." She rolled onto her back, breaking their face-to-face intimacy, groaning slightly with the pain the movement caused.

"Are you still in pain?" he asked, concerned. "Even with the Vicoden?"

"It comes and goes," Chloe answered, relieved by the change of subject, even if it was to the topic of her health. "But normally the Vicoden does kill it."

"Did you get the results of the ultrasound yet?"

"No, I'm not getting it done until tomorrow."

House spread his large hand over her lower belly, trying to bring her some comfort from its warmth.

"Do you want me to go with you?" he asked.

Chloe considered his offer.

"Would you be there as my doctor or as my friend?" she asked.

House sighed. Of course he'd be her friend, but he couldn't not be a doctor too. It just wasn't in him.

"Both," he answered honestly.

Chloe hesitated, not wanting a repeat of what had happened in Dr Wright's office, House fighting for medical supremacy over whichever poor technician she was assigned to. But the fact that he was willing to be there to support her was indescribably soothing.

"I'd like it if you came to my appointment with Dr Wright when I get the results," she said. "And I'll come and see you after my test tomorrow, but I don't think I need you to be there."

House nodded and closed his eyes, suddenly tired. Chloe lay awake for a while, feeling his hand warming her pain, subduing it. Eventually she slept.

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When Chloe woke the next morning she was lying curled on her side. House was behind her, spooning her, and she could feel his breath on her neck. His arm was over her, his hand resting on her breast though her nightgown, and she could feel his morning arousal against her thigh.

She took a deep breath, amazed at the instant response from her body. She wanted him, and she wanted him desperately.

Just a moment after that thought passed through Chloe's mind, House stirred and nuzzled into her neck, kissing her just under her ear. He wiggled his hips until his erection was nestling cosily in the apex of her thighs and he gave a gentle thrust forward.

"Good morning," he growled in her ear, gently biting her earlobe and then licking the hurt away with his tongue. His hand searched for the hem of her gown, reaching under and up until he could caress her breast directly, pinching the nipple until it stood firm. After toying with it for a moment, his hand moved lower again, this time sliding inside her underwear, pushing against her with a flat hand, rubbing gently between her legs.

Chloe froze, not sure what to do. She'd only just woken up and now he had his hand down her pants and her body was aching for him. Even though she'd asked him to stay over, this wasn't something she'd thought through – and she wasn't at all sure whether she could handle it. The thought of him moving over her, being inside her, filled her with equal parts desire and dread.

There was a sensible, rational voice in her head, telling her that this was a bad idea, they needed to talk about things first, and hadn't she wanted to avoid even speaking to this guy anyway? But the hot breath in her ear was making that voice increasingly hard to hear. Then there was the feeling of what he was doing to her, the way her body was responding. It was as if they'd never been apart.

Almost without her conscious permission, she moved her arm behind her, running it down his side, resting it on his hip, squeezing him and pulling him closer to her.

"Turn a bit," House growled. He felt like he was still half asleep. But he'd woken up in bed pressed against a beautiful woman and it just felt natural to follow through with what his body was telling him it wanted. He didn't want to think it through any further than that for now.

Chloe rolled onto her back to allow him better access between her thighs. She lost the feel of his erection against her, but she reached down to stroke him tentatively with one hand.

House let out a hiss as he felt her caress through his boxers. He pushed her hand away, wanting to concentrate on her for the moment. He rose up slightly to pull her nightgown up to her neck, exposing her breasts to his view in the dappled light coming in from the gaps in the heavy hotel curtains.

He lowered his head to her breast, making circles with his tongue around her nipple, not touching it. He did the same with his hand, parting her folds, and making wide circles that drove her wild precisely because they didn't touch her aching need.

"Please…" she begged breathlessly, desperate for him to touch her properly. She grabbed at the sheets and lifted her hips, trying to press his hand into her.

"All in good time," he promised, lifting his head to move to her other breast. He didn't bother with the teasing this time, just enveloped her nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. As he sucked, he stroked her firmly, pressing into her just has she had been begging him to do.

Chloe gasped and arched back, crying out a strangled sound as the world disappeared around her. Her vision went black as he drew out her peak, maintaining a constant pressure with his fingers and continuing to pull on her breast with his mouth. Chloe could feel her whole body pulsing, and she wondered vaguely if she might die from the exquisite torture. Eventually she collapsed back into the bed, gasping for breath, and he lightened his touch, pulling away from her nipple to kiss her breasts and stomach. She didn't think she'd ever come so quickly before.

"Well, not all that much time as it turned out," he chuckled.

Chloe had her eyes closed and still couldn't speak, but reached out a hand to pat him reassuringly.

House smiled as he looked down on her; orgasm flush spreading a delicate pink over her neck and décolletage.

Chloe opened her eyes and saw him smiling down at her. He looked incredibly smug and Chloe knew she wanted to reduce him to begging for release, just as he had to her. She remembered there was one of her tricks that he couldn't resist and it had the added bonus of leaving her in control of what happened.

She pushed her hands against his shoulders, rolling him onto his back and sitting up enough to put her head to his chest. She teased his nipple with her tongue just as he had done hers, before moving up to his shoulder to nibble along the collar bone to his neck. She caught the skin beneath his ear in her teeth, biting it gently before kissing it better, and was satisfied by his quick intake of breath.

With long, sweeping motions she stroked his chest and stomach, gradually making her way lower, reaching the waistband of his boxers. She teased one finger under the elastic, moving her hand slowly, exploring the bare skin she found on his hips and tops of his thighs, deliberately avoiding touching anything else. Occasionally she let the underside of her wrist 'accidentally' brush against him. As soon as she provoked a muted groan, she scooted down in the bed, using both hands to lift his boxers over his arousal. She smiled as she noted the damp patch on the boxers and looked up at him.

House was watching as she lowered his boxers, seeing the look on her face that made him feel as if he was a three-course meal and she hadn't eaten in a week. When she looked up at him with her green eyes smoky with desire, then lowered her lips to his shaft, he groaned before her tongue even touched him.

Chloe put out her tongue to lick a bead of moisture off his tip. Then she swirled her tongue around the head, cupping him gently with her hand. After wetting him all over she took him in deeply, pulsing her mouth. As her hands roamed over him, touching him just as she remembered drove him wild, she knew that she wouldn't be the only one beating a personal speed record. When she felt him tensing under her hand she took him all the way in, letting him thrust into her mouth.

House's breath left him as he let loose. Whether it was that he remembered now how damned good she was at this, or the fact that it had been a long time since his last time with a woman – with Chloe – or just that he'd never felt hornier in his life, he was a little embarrassed at how quickly it had all happened.

When Chloe rustled back up through the sheets to join House on the pillows she had exactly the same smug expression he'd sported a few minutes earlier.

"Bet you think you're pretty good right now, don't you?" House rasped, still catching his breath.

"Yep." Chloe admitted, wanting more than anything to sleep. Not only was she exhausted, she didn't want to have to discuss what had just happened, especially since she still needed some time to work out how she felt about it. She reached to the night table for a Vicoden and a drink of water, then handed the pill bottle and glass over to him, snuggling back down into the bed.

House swallowed a pill and then absently checked his watch.

"Shit," he said, seeing the time.

"What?" Chloe asked sleepily.

"I have to go, it's really late." Reluctantly he got up, putting on his clothes.

"OK. See you this afternoon," she mumbled.

"Sure."

Once dressed, he turned to her to say goodbye but shook his head as he saw she was just about asleep. He decided not to disturb her – at least it was a compliment.

Chloe heard the door closing as she drifted deeper into sleep, and a thought flitted through her mind.

They hadn't kissed.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed and favourited. It is lovely to hear what you're all thinking about the story! Special thanks to beta Ladyfr who is reading and reviewing even though she's already read it before! There will be another chapter really soon.

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_Thursday_

Chloe walked to House's office late in the afternoon. Her ultrasound was complete, the radiologist curt but efficient. He had refused to give her any indication of results, saying she had to wait to speak to Dr Wright.

She waited outside House's door when she saw he was engaged in conversation. Belatedly she realised the woman inside his office was Dr Cuddy, the woman who had held her hand when Dr Wright had explained her surgery, told her the details of her unplanned but lost pregnancy when she'd been at the hospital the last time. Cuddy had been there for her when House hadn't. Again, the emotions from that time surged inside her, causing tears to well. Chloe blinked them back.

Dr Cuddy turned to leave, opening the door and heading down the corridor. She saw Chloe out of the corner of her eye and did a double-take, immediately recognising the other woman. She reacted instinctively.

"Chloe!" she exclaimed, walking over to her and giving her a hug. Chloe hugged her back, genuinely touched by her warm greeting.

Cuddy pulled back and looked at Chloe carefully. It was obvious to her doctor's eyes that the other woman wasn't healthy.

"How are you?" Cuddy asked. "Is everything OK? I didn't know you were back in town." She a look over her shoulder with her last statement in accusation towards House.

Cuddy had never mentioned to House the time she'd spent with Chloe after her surgery; she had managed to contain her reproaches that she'd been the one there when it should have been _him_. She knew Wilson had covered that ground. And besides, once Chloe was gone, it was clear to anyone who knew House well that he didn't need more lecturing. His remorse was evident.

House watched the two women from inside his office. He had no idea that they knew each other. Inappropriate thoughts flooded his mind and he tried his best to quash them.

"I'm just in town for work and for an appointment with Dr Wright," Chloe explained.

"Are you all right?" Cuddy asked, concerned.

"Oh, I'm sure it's all fine, just a few tests," Chloe hedged, folding her arms to indicate she didn't want to be pressed for details.

"Well, let me know if I can do anything," Cuddy replied. She paused, wondering why she felt compelled to hear more. "Maybe we could grab a coffee or something if you're going to be back at the hospital in the next few days?"

"That'd be lovely," Chloe replied, smiling. "I will be in and out over the next few days, so I'll pop in and see you. Your office is near the foyer, yes?"

"That's right. If I'm not there, just see my secretary and she can let you know when I'll be around."

"Will do."

The two women smiled at each other and then moved away. Chloe headed into House's office, while Cuddy walked down the corridor. Cuddy couldn't help the feeling that she really wanted to eavesdrop on whatever conversation Chloe and House were about to have.

House meanwhile was packing up his stuff and turning off his computer.

"All done?" he asked as Chloe entered the office. He was feeling a little edgy after their morning together, not sure what it meant. The only thing he was in no doubt about was that he wanted more, but he'd decided it would be best to take things slowly, not rush into anything until he felt on safer ground.

"Yep, all done, thank God, she replied. "One more hideous test behind me," she added more quietly. She wasn't sure how to act around him after their morning's activities, but he seemed to be playing it cool and she followed his lead.

House looked up at her. She looked better than she had yesterday, not so pale.

"And just how do you know Cuddy?" he demanded, not sure he wanted those two very separate parts of his life coming together.

"She visited me when I was in hospital last time," Chloe paused wondering how to describe their encounter. "She was just really nice to me," she said simply.

"Oh," House was lost for words for a moment. Cuddy had never mentioned any visit to Chloe to him. But then that wasn't all that surprising. He'd copped hours of lecturing from Wilson after Chloe left, maybe Cuddy felt she didn't need to add further.

"Want to grab something to eat?" he asked casually.

Chloe was a little surprised; she hadn't expected a dinner invitation.

"Um, yeah, sounds good," she answered tentatively.

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Seated at a table in a Chinese restaurant, Chloe picked at the plates of food House had ordered with her chopsticks.

"You should eat," House observed.

"I've been eating!" Chloe said defensively, knowing she hadn't really.

"Two pieces of kung pow chicken and half an egg roll does not make a meal," House stated, stuffing his mouth with a large piece of chilli beef.

In response, Chloe picked up a piece of broccoli and ate it.

"Happy?" she asked with her mouth full.

"Better."

They'd spent most of the meal in companionable chatter – commenting on the food, the restaurant, the weather – flirting a little, but in a very safe and gentle way. House had entertained her with stories about ridiculous clinic patients that Chloe felt must violate every tenet of doctor-patient confidentiality, but they were too funny for her to ask him to stop.

House had decided to go along with her in ignoring the elephant in the room. He knew it was because both of them were too cautious to destroy their newly found camaraderie with talk that might lead to arguing. But once the plates were cleared, he found the silence became full of all the things they weren't saying.

He cleared his throat and decided to tackle things head on.

"What happened at the ultrasound today?"

Chloe gave him a look, disappointed he was breaking their unsaid agreement to declare the whole subject off limits for the evening.

"Nothing – he wouldn't tell me anything, said I had to wait until I saw Dr Wright again for the results." She hoped he didn't want details of the test. She didn't particularly want to share the particulars of an internal ultrasound over dinner. With him.

"Hmmm," House replied thoughtfully.

"What do you mean, 'hmmm'?" Chloe asked. "Did I miss some kind of doctor shorthand?"

"No," House said, wondering what to tell her. He didn't want to make her anxious, but at least she could be prepared. "It's just that if everything was fine, normally they would tell you that – or give you a strong hint at least. Which means it's probably shown something of interest."

Amazingly, Chloe smiled. She couldn't believe it, but her overwhelming sense was one of relief.

"Why are you smiling?" House looked puzzled.

"This is going to sound really dumb," Chloe admitted, even blushing slightly as she realised she was going to tell him something she'd never admitted to anyone else.

"I've actually been mostly worried that there's nothing wrong with me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it would be a relief to find out that there was actually a medical cause for what's going on. Because I've been wondering if it's just psychological. It gets worse when I get stressed. And it definitely gets worse when I think about – or talk about – what happened," Chloe admitted.

House frowned. He was always one for a clean, physiological diagnosis, but he also knew the power of the mind over the body.

"Like last night," Chloe continued remembering a recent example. "I took the drugs before bed and was feeling fine until… until you mentioned…" she trailed off, not wanting to continue because she didn't want to raise that particular topic again.

House nodded. He remembered that she'd pulled away in pain after he'd started talking about the pregnancy. He also remembered that she hadn't answered his question. What decision would they have made if they'd been given the choice? If things had worked out differently, could they have been sitting together in this restaurant, awaiting the birth of their child in just a few days?

His need to have things tied up, no loose ends, made the fact that he would never really know like a grain of sand irritating an oyster. He doubted he would be left with anything resembling a pearl as a result.

Chloe watched him thinking, could guess where his thoughts had taken him. She took that trip almost every day: the 'what if' mental vacation. Some days it was a happy one: her company would have been pleased for her to relocate to New Jersey, the two of them could have found a house, they would have shopped for nursery wallpaper borders together. On other days it was less happy – more realistic? she wondered – and she was a single mother, facing the agony of giving birth alone, bringing up a child who got a birthday card and an expensive gift once a year from a distant man who didn't even sign the cards 'Dad'.

Chloe sighed, knowing from seven months of experience that the thinking never went anywhere good.

"Thanks for dinner, Greg," she said, quietly, interrupting his thoughts.

House came out of his reverie and looked at her, somehow knowing she understood what he'd just been thinking. He nodded.

"You're welcome. It was…" he paused to find the right word, "…nice to spend time together." He winced at the fact that _nice_was the best he could come up with.

Chloe smiled. "Yes, nice to spend non-medical time together," she agreed. "But as for medical time together, did you still want to come to my appointment tomorrow?" She asked the question tentatively. She really wanted him to be there now, but she also didn't want to put any pressure on him.

"Sure. I'll meet you in the waiting area. Three-thirty, right?"

"Can I just ask you one thing?" Chloe asked, knowing she had to say it.

"What?"

"Can you please let Dr Wright be the doctor? Can you just be there for me?" Chloe wasn't sure why it was so important to her that House's role was as her partner, not as her doctor.

"Chloe," House began warningly. He could do his best, but if Wright wasn't doing the right thing medically speaking then he wasn't going to sit by silently. "I can't just let…"

She interrupted him. "At least could you please just not interrupt him until he's had a chance to go though everything?" She looked at him, pleading.

House sighed. "I promise not to interrupt him until he's given his diagnosis. But if I think he's wrong or there's more to it, then I'm going to say so. That's the best I can offer."

Chloe looked at him and realised that it was the most she could ask.

"Thanks."

"He's a reasonable doctor anyway," House said, trying to placate her in some way. Chloe wasn't to know it , but 'reasonable' was about the highest praise he would give another doctor.

Chloe nodded and they both rose to leave. Outside the restaurant, House started heading for his car, assuming she'd follow. He hadn't given a great deal of thought to how the night would turn out, but assumed there would be a moment when they decided to go back to her hotel room or to his place. Assumed they'd spend the night together again.

"Greg," she called out to him, grabbing his hand before he could go too far. She knew that if they went home together he would want to have sex, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that yet. Even with the pleasures of the morning in her mind, she was too tired and sore and uncertain to want to play. And part of her wanted to leave the evening on this note – having enjoyed each other's company and conversation.

"I'm going to grab a cab."

He paused and turned back to her. "Are you sure? I don't mind driving you." He tried to keep the note of disappointment out of his voice.

"Yeah, it's late, we're both tired, and the hotel isn't exactly on your way home from here."

"OK," he agreed. He really wouldn't have minded taking their lovemaking to the next step, but he also felt that the evening had got them to a good place – maybe now was a good time to part, to leave things warm between them.

He moved to the kerb and hailed a passing cab for her. Opening the back door, he grabbed her arm to help her in.

Chloe looked up at him. With a little smile she reached up and brought his head to hers, leaning in to kiss him, briefly, on the lips.

House pulled back and they looked at each other for a moment, seeming to reach the same decision at the same time. He leaned down and covered her mouth with his, his tongue seeking hers. Chloe moaned a little as she reached her arms around his waist, pulling their bodies close. House felt her respond, could feel her breasts pressing against his chest and couldn't help his own response stirring. He put a hand to her head, tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her deeper into the kiss, lost in the sensations of her mouth, the softness of her hair under his hand, the hard nipples he was sure he could feel rubbing against him.

The cab driver cleared his throat noisily and they pulled apart. Chloe took a deep breath and unwound herself from him.

"Thanks for everything," she said quietly, disappearing into the cab before she could change her mind.

House closed the door and watched as the cab drove off. He stood for a while, frowning and a little breathless; his finger tracing the slight tingle left on his lips from their kiss, wondering what it all meant.


	6. Chapter 6

_Friday_

Chloe sat nervously in Dr Wright's waiting area. House was late. Which was OK for now, because Dr Wright was also running late. But it made Chloe even more anxious than she already was. What if he didn't turn up? What if he backed out now? What if their kiss had scared him away, just when she'd started to look forward to his support? She didn't want to admit it, but she'd begun to rely on his presence to help her though this.

Finally, she saw him coming up the corridor towards her, that striding, limping gait unmistakable. Chloe was flooded with relief and anger which she struggled to keep hidden. She didn't want him to know how much his support meant to her – didn't want to burden him with that yet, just in case it made him go away. She didn't know if she could cope if that happened again.

House sat down next to her, slightly out of breath.

"Sorry, couldn't get away from a patient," he explained.

Chloe smiled ruefully. Such was the life of a doctor, she guessed. And if you were involved with one, you had to adjust.

"I'm just glad you're here," she answered, not able to meet his eyes in case he saw the need in them.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Chloe took a deep breath, trying to control her now instant irritation at that question, whoever was asking.

"Fine," she said, keeping her voice level.

House nodded and grabbed for a magazine.

"Chloe Parker?" the nurse announced to the room.

"Timing!" House declared brightly, throwing the unopened magazine back down. He rose and turned to Chloe, who was still sitting in her chair, looking pale and worried.

"Come on," House urged, grabbing her hand and pulling her up. "You can do this."

Chloe wondered. Could she really? But she rose and followed him into the office.

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Dr Wright studied his notes for a moment and then looked at Chloe, a serious expression on his face.

"Chloe, when was your last ultrasound?" Chloe couldn't help but pick up a note of concern in his voice.

"Two months ago. Why? What's there?" Chloe felt her pulse jump at his question.

House looked at Chloe, saw the flush rising in her face. He knew she was worried and now, suddenly, so was he. He couldn't believe it, but on reflection over the past couple of days he hadn't given much thought to what it would mean if there was something seriously wrong with her. Sure, he'd been considering diagnoses, but for some reason he hadn't made the link between the medical facts and the physical person next to him. He reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. Chloe clasped her hand around his, but didn't take her eyes from the doctor on the opposite side of the desk.

Dr Wright frowned, two months ago wasn't that long.

"There are some adhesions from the surgery, which is to be expected, especially given we couldn't operate laparoscopically because you were haemorrhaging. So that scar tissue could certainly be causing some of your pain."

Chloe nodded, but she already knew that – all the other doctors had picked it up.

"What concerns me more is that there is a mass on your right ovary which absolutely wouldn't get missed on an ultrasound. That means it's grown significantly in the last two months."

He consulted his notes again. House could feel Chloe's hand trembling.

"What meds have you been on?" Dr Wright asked.

"Right after the surgery my doctor put me on a high dose contraceptive and a five milligram dose of progesterone. She said that because I wasn't trying to get pregnant again, it would help get things get back to normal."

Dr Wright nodded, he would have advised the same thing.

"The last doctor I saw said he didn't think I needed to be on them anymore," Chloe continued, "so I stopped taking them about six or seven weeks ago. Other than that, I've been taking pain meds: Percocet and Vicoden mainly."

"Did that doctor say why you should stop taking the pill and the progesterone?" Dr Wright asked, surprised.

"Not really, he just said he didn't think I needed them anymore. And I didn't really like being on the pill, I never have, it just doesn't agree with me. So the doctor gave me some Chinese herbs instead."

House made an exasperated noise. "Chloe, I can't believe…" She turned to face him and his words died away. Her eyes were filled with tears and she looked so upset that for once he managed to stifle his need to lecture.

"OK," Dr Wright called their attention back to him. "I think it's likely that there's a simple explanation for this. Chloe, the pain's been getting worse recently, yes?"

Chloe nodded and sniffed, the tears threatening to overwhelm her.

"I'm ninety per cent sure that it's just a benign growth. If you've been off the pill for six weeks or so, you've probably started ovulating again, and with the growth on your ovary that would cause significant pain.

"We'll need to do a biopsy to be on the safe side, and then we'll decide how to proceed. I'm sorry to say that given the pain this is causing it's likely you'll need surgery to remove it, but that will be a much smaller and less invasive procedure than the last surgery you had."

House had kept as silent as he could throughout the meeting, trying to be faithful to the promise he'd made to Chloe, but he couldn't hold himself back any more.

"Give me that," House released Chloe's now sweaty hand and reached across the desk and snatched the ultrasound report and images from in front of Wright.

Chloe watched as he studied a black and white picture closely. The shapes and blobs meant nothing to her, and she thought how bizarre it was that it was _her_body and yet these two men knew more about it than she did.

"You're thinking functional cyst?" he asked Wright.

"Yes, that's by far the most likely option."

"But did you do CA-125 in the last round of bloods?" he asked, ignoring the other doctor's suggestion.

"No, there was no reason to think that we'd need to test for something that serious. But we…"

"Well, do it now. And AFP and LDH."

"We could…" Wright was interrupted yet again.

"And test the HCG again, because those other guys were obviously idiots."

Wright sighed and made some notations. "Yes, we can do the tests, but I think it's very unlikely that it's a tumour or a persistent ectopic."

"But you'll do a biopsy." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, yes, and a CT scan too." Wright sounded harried now.

"Wait, wait, wait," Chloe had had enough of being the subject under discussion in language she didn't understand. The word 'tumour' had lit up neon warning signs in her brain. Once again tears threatened, but she blinked hard, wanting to stay calm and not be reduced to a blubbering mess in front of them.

"Say all that again but I want to know what it means." Surprisingly she looked at House, not Wright, for an explanation.

House looked at her, seeing the trust in her eyes, her pleading. It was a look he hated; it normally came from the most desperate of patients:_cure me, doctor, please_. Coming from her, it just made him confused, a weird mix of concern and helplessness.

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring look.

"There's basically two main things it could be: a cyst which is common and mostly pretty harmless – although sometimes painful," he added. "It might respond to drug treatment but from the looks of things you'll probably need surgery. The second option is that it could be something more serious."

"Don't," Chloe whispered to him. She had turned to him because she didn't want the comforting, bland words of Dr Wright. She wanted the truth.

House took a deep breath, understanding what she was asking with her eyes.

"The tests we were talking about are designed to diagnose ovarian cancer," House admitted.

Dr Wright took a breath. It wasn't his usual practice to share that kind of news with patients at this stage, especially when it was far more likely to be a harmless cyst.

"Chloe," Dr Wright started. "It's very important not to get too worked up about this. We'll get you in for these tests and then when we're sure what it is we'll go from there. There's no point worrying about what might be until we know what is."

Chloe gave a little hollow laugh. _Yeah, sure, nothing to worry about_.

Dr Wright turned to his computer and brought up a schedule and made some further notations on her file.

"Right, we can get you in for the biopsy first thing on Monday morning and I'll work out a way to fit you in for a follow up with me in the afternoon…"

House interrupted immediately. "Monday? I don't think so…" he began rummaging in his pockets for his cell phone.

"Dr House," Wright said patiently, "it is four pm on Friday afternoon. Monday morning is as soon as we can possibly…"

"I've got connections in oncology." He waggled his eyebrows at Chloe jokingly in an attempt to cheer her up. "Just as well you don't have heart disease, because the cardio guys hate me."

Despite herself, Chloe smiled at his banter. Then she wondered for a moment if it really was a joke.

"Dr House, we will need the blood test results for a proper diagnosis. They will take forty-eight hours to receive, even if I put a rush on them, so Monday is actually sensible…"

"Wilson," House spoke into his phone. "What are you doing?"

Chloe and Wright listened to one half of the conversation.

"You can't go home yet … It's only four o'clock! … I don't care … Listen … No listen to me … I need to see you about a patient … I don't care if those tickets cost two hundred dollars, I need fifteen minutes of your time … Yeah … I'll be at your office in five." He hung up, even though they could clearly hear the man on the other end of the conversation still protesting.

"James Wilson?" Wright asked. House nodded.

"Well, if you can pull some strings to get into see him, you should. I wouldn't be able to get you an appointment with him for weeks." He sounded vaguely jealous.

"I'll need her file." House said, rising to leave the office.

Dr Wright looked taken aback, not sure how to respond.

"Wilson will need to see it," stated House, giving Wright a condescending look.

Dr Wright decided it was lucky that age and experience had taught him patience under stress, because otherwise he might feel like taking on this arrogant son-of-a… He sighed.

"Just give me a minute to draw some more blood and write up the tests and then, yes, you can take it. But please bring it back on Monday."

House rolled his eyes to the ceiling, but for Chloe's sake he kept his insult internal only: _Of course I'll bring the file back, dick brain_.

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House opened Wilson's office door without knocking, dragging Chloe in behind him. Chloe was reluctant to be there, her natural sense of politeness still strong – despite the 'c' word hanging over her, it didn't seem right to crash into someone's office and ruin their plans for the evening.

"James Wilson this is Chloe Parker." He slapped the medical file on the desk in front of his friend and took a seat at the desk, gesturing to Chloe to take the one next to him.

Wilson shook his head, confused. House had brought a patient to him? When did that ever happen? Oh yes, of course: _never_.

Wait, even more bizarre: House knew a patient's name? Chloe Parker? That sounded familiar…

While Chloe was getting seated he mouthed silently to House.

"_Frequent flyer_?" referring to the nickname he and House had used for Chloe in the early days of their relationship, an apt description of Chloe's hectic travel schedule.

House nodded. "We've just come from Wright's office. He says Chloe can't get a biopsy til Monday. I knew you'd be able to help."

Wilson just sighed at House's presumption.

He looked over at Chloe. She was attractive, a little thin maybe, late thirties maybe early forties, casually but expensively dressed. She looked tired and upset, and had the slightly bewildered expression that Wilson had seen on many people who'd spent time with House.

"It's nice to finally meet you Chloe," he said, extending his hand across the desk.

Chloe took his hand and returned his warm smile.

"It's nice to meet you too. I've heard a lot about you." Personally, she couldn't believe this attractive, calm-looking man could possibly survive – let alone sustain – a friendship with House.

"Same here," Wilson offered.

House started to get uncomfortable, as he always did when separate parts of his life came together unexpectedly. He didn't need these two sharing exactly what he'd said about the other.

"The file, Wilson," he prompted.

Wilson nodded and opened the cover, reading the first page, the most recent notes from the previous appointment. After a moment, he lifted the first page and scanned those underneath.

House jiggled his leg in impatience, twisting his cane between his hands. Chloe just watched Dr Wilson carefully as he studied her notes. She saw him frown and grimace a little.

"Do you have any of the blood test results yet?" Wilson asked House.

"Nah, they won't be back til Monday," House responded.

"Then I think we should wait until Monday to do the biopsy," Wilson said bluntly.

"But why wait? You're here, you can organise a treatment room. I can assist if you can't find anyone else."

Chloe sat up straighter in her chair. She didn't like the sound of what he was proposing, still not comfortable with the idea of him treating her.

"It would be better to have all the information together before we make a definitive diagnosis," Wilson said, diplomatically, looking over at Chloe. He knew exactly why House had brought her to him. He wanted an instant result, an instant call one way or the other, even though Wilson was sure he already knew it wasn't possible.

"But if we do the biopsy now we can look at it straight away and get a head start."

"House," Wilson almost hissed. He lowered his voice, although he knew Chloe could obviously still hear him. He was now quite annoyed with his friend for putting him in this difficult situation, with Chloe right there to watch.

"You know this is one of the most difficult cancers to diagnose. It wouldn't be right to make a call without all of the information. We need the CA-125 at a minimum. If that's negative then you might not even need to do the biopsy…"

House shook his head. He knew that medically Wilson was right. But he just didn't want to spend three days with the sword of Damocles over his head.

"But Wilson, if we at least knew the biopsy results we could…"

Chloe started to tune out to the argument between the two men. She was beginning to feel dazed. Her life over the past months had become a roundabout of medical jargon, doctor's appointments and tests. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd had to listen while various men, most of them strangers, had casually discussed the most intimate things about her. Today had been intense even by her standards. She'd just found out she might have cancer, and, even if that wasn't the case, at best, was likely facing surgery again. She made an instant decision.

The two doctors were so engrossed in their argument they didn't realise Chloe had risen until she was closing Wilson's door behind her.

They fell silent and Wilson sat back in his chair, shaking his head.

House sighed. He paused, waiting for his friend's lecture. When Wilson continued to say nothing, House rolled his eyes and let out an irritated noise.

"I suppose you think I should run after her."

"Not really, no," Wilson answered.

House was taken aback. "What?"

"I think you should leave her alone."

"What, forever?" House had to admit, the idea had its appeal.

"No, you idiot. Just give her a while to take everything in, then call and see if she's OK."

House nodded.

"I think I'm getting in over my head here," he confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I haven't heard from her in seven months, then next thing she's here and she's sick and we're arguing. Then she asks me to sleep with her and we're going out for dinner and kissing and I'm going to gynaecology appointments with her."

Wilson raised an eyebrow when House mentioned sleeping with her and at the fact that dinner and kissing came after that, but didn't ask.

"Hasn't this been something you've wanted?" Wilson asked shrewdly.

"What? Chinese food and pelvic exams?"

Wilson rolled his eyes.

"No, to _talk_ to her."

House sighed. "Yeah, I guess so."

Wilson hid his sympathetic smile by turning to his computer and making some notes. He handed Chloe's file back to House.

"Tell her she's booked in for her biopsy with me at ten on Monday. I've sent an email to Wright to let him know."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone for your feedback so far. Here's a nice long chapter for you - hope you enjoy it, I liked writing this one.

Don't forget to let me know what you think - it really does make my day!

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A couple of hours after leaving Wilson's office, House called Chloe's cell phone and to his surprise she answered. He wasn't sure what to expect, but her voice was calm.

"Hello Greg."

After grabbing a cab from the hospital, Chloe had gone back to her hotel room and, after throwing herself on the bed for a decent cry, she'd gone for a swim. Doing some mindless laps had given her mind time to settle and she'd taken a kind of meditative comfort from the ache in her pelvis, despite the tearing pain each time she turned and pushed off the pool wall.

After she'd had a shower and a glass of whisky the world had seemed to calm down around her and she'd been able to rationalise exactly what had gone on that afternoon.

She'd decided that Dr Wright's advice had been right – there was no point in worrying. There was something definitely wrong with her – in itself, sort of good news – but it could most likely be fixed, and he'd said there was a ninety per cent chance it was benign. So there might be a few more medical procedures involved, but, hey, she'd been through enough of that recently to know she could survive the unpleasantness. And then, just maybe, she'd be well again; there'd be no more pain.

"Hi. Are you OK?" She could hear the note of concern in his voice and it was just enough to stop her bristling at the question.

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry about walking out like that. I just needed to get away and think."

"Yeah, I guess I can understand that." He paused. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"No, it's OK, I wanted to hear the facts and that's what you gave me. I actually feel pretty good now. At least I know that there is something wrong and that it's most likely fixable. I don't mind waiting a couple of days to know more. At least, I assume we'll be doing things on Monday?"

House breathed a sigh of relief at her answer. "Yes, I called Wright and returned your file. You're all set for Monday at ten am – with Wilson."

"Good. And thanks. For sorting things out for me."

"No problem. I'm glad to hear you sounding OK about everything."

"A good shot of Dalwhinnie has helped no end," she laughed a little.

"Yes, that does make the world seem a better place, I've often thought," House agreed.

"Can I buy you one?" Chloe offered impulsively.

House paused. He'd just got through complaining to Wilson that he was getting more involved with Chloe than he thought wise. But then he thought about the morning in bed with her and the kiss they'd shared. He considered his empty apartment and compared it to a night drinking fine whisky with a beautiful woman.

"I guess I could stop in for just the one," he replied.

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As Chloe watched him walking through the hotel lobby to meet her she was struck by a sense of déjà vu. Their last meeting here had started with an argument and ended with him in her bed. She wondered what to expect from him this time.

When he entered the bar, she held up the two glasses in front of her to let him know she'd already bought them drinks. He walked over to her and there was an awkward moment as they worked out how to greet each other. Finally he settled for leaning down to her and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Chloe smiled as he settled into the chair opposite her and looked down at her drink, trying to hide the blush that had just risen to her face at his brief touch. At that moment she realised exactly how she wanted the night to end and the feeling was so overwhelming she felt a little light-headed. Or maybe that was just all the blood rushing from her brain to other parts of her body – she could feel her heart racing. It didn't make any sense at all, and yet she knew what she wanted with a certainty that took her breath away. It was scary as hell.

She picked up her glass and looked over at him.

"Cheers," she smiled.

He looked at her, taking in the color in her cheeks, her bright eyes. It was probably just the whisky, but she looked almost the way he remembered her from the first days of their relationship: lively, sparkling, sexy.

"Cheers." He raised his glass and clinked it against hers, looking back into her face as he swallowed the amber liquid in one gulp. He wondered for a moment if he needed his glasses: there was something in her eyes and he was sure he knew what it was, but he didn't think it could be – surely not, after everything she'd been through that day?

"Are you really OK about today? I mean, it's a big thing to take in – we can talk about it more if you want," he asked, hoping she wouldn't want to.

Chloe smiled at him. "Can we please declare the 'C'-word and all medical-related discussions off-limits until Monday? I don't have to deal with any of it until then and that's exactly what I plan to do."

Chloe broke eye contact with him to call out to the bartender.

"Can we have another round, please?"

The bartender walked over and topped up their glasses with another shot of the expensive drink.

"Just put it on my room tab, please."

"Certainly ma'am."

"Actually, how about you just leave the bottle?" House suggested. "We're going to need another one after this," he said to Chloe.

She giggled loudly, then clapped a hand over her mouth, appalled at how girly and drunken it sounded.

House laughed at her. "Actually, maybe I'm the only one who's going to need another one."

The bartender rolled his eyes discreetly as he walked away, leaving the bottle. It wasn't normally allowed, but she'd always left him good tips and the bottle was half empty anyway.

"Sorry, I am only two drinks ahead of you, but obviously it's going to my head pretty fast," Chloe tried to explain, putting the backs of her fingers to her face to try and cool her flaming cheeks.

"Yeah, sure, that's what you say. But I bet you're great friends with ole Barney the bartender over there," House gestured towards the bar. "He's probably been pouring you doubles all evening."

Chloe rolled her eyes in answer and picked up the fresh glass of whisky to take a sip. Still discomforted by her reaction to him, her hand trembled as she brought the glass to her mouth and she looked up to see if he had noticed.

Of course he noticed.

"Are you sure you're feeling OK?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said defensively, despite knowing his question's genuine intention. For once her trembling wasn't due to illness. "I just haven't eaten anything yet."

"Well, let's get you some food then. I could use some too."

Chloe didn't like the idea of going to a restaurant and losing the feeling of having him all to herself, even in the public space of the bar. Her arousal was becoming pitched, just being near him, and she could see only two viable choices: getting him somewhere private and – to use a ridiculous expression – jumping his bones; or getting rid of him and dealing with it herself. She knew which one was safer and also which one she'd prefer.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself she put one elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her chin in her hand. She looked at him, openly, blatantly – fearfully – willing him to get what she was trying to communicate.

"We could take the bottle up to my room and get room service," she suggested.

"Oh." House looked at her. Despite the fairly obvious signals she was giving, he still wasn't quite sure what was going on. There was something about her that was saying 'come' and 'go away' at the same time. He didn't want to interpret wrongly, but he also couldn't ignore the instant stirring thoughts of her hands and mouth on him provoked.

"I guess we could do that," he finally answered.

They walked to the elevator together, House holding the whisky bottle in his free hand. When the doors opened, they entered and Chloe pressed the button for her floor. She deliberately stood close to him, wordlessly stroking the back of his hand with one finger as the elevator took them skyward. For House, her touch removed some of the doubt from his mind, it was clear what she wanted – or at least what she thought she wanted.

And it was now something he really wanted too, he realised with a start, glad there was no one sharing the elevator with them. Together, before the pregnancy, they'd had some of the best sex of his life.

When Chloe opened her room door she stood back to let him in first. He moved into the room and put the bottle down next to the television, but before he could say or do anything further he found himself pushed against the wall Chloe's hands against his chest, her face looking up into his.

"I want to kiss you," she whispered.

"Yeah, I kind of got that impression," he joked feebly.

His joke made her pause – maybe he didn't want to do this? But she'd been pretty sure he knew what he was agreeing to when he accepted her offer of room service. It wasn't going to take much for her to lose her bravado, to show this whole thing up for the play-acting she was beginning to feel it was. Despite herself, she stepped closer to him and with the feel of his body against hers she knew for certain that he was aroused. She gathered her courage and tried again.

"So, I can't exactly reach you up there. You'll have to come meet me halfway." Even in her heels Chloe could only comfortably reach his neck with her mouth.

House took another long look at her and decided to damn the consequences. He lowered his head as she closed her eyes. But he moved past her lips, ducking to kiss her on the neck, his breath hot and loud in her ear.

Chloe couldn't help but groan as she leant her head to the side to give him better access. She felt literally weak at the knees as his mouth moved down her neck and over her collarbone.

"Enough!" she declared, grabbing his face with her hands, bringing his mouth to meet hers. Despite being the shorter one, she led the kiss, forcing him against the wall as she pressed into him, her tongue delving into his mouth. This time it was House's turn to groan, he hadn't realised being dominated in such a way would be so arousing.

He reached around her back and slid his hands up inside her top, feeling the soft skin of her back, her prominent ribcage a reminder that she was still a sick woman. The thought gave him pause. Between kisses he tried to explain.

"The need to have sex…" he pulled away from her mouth and only had time to utter those few words before she claimed him again.

He turned away from her mouth to try again to speak. This time she turned her attention to his neck, pulling the collar of his shirt aside to gain further access as her other hand started to pull his t-shirt from his jeans.

"No wait…" he trailed off, momentarily forgetting what he was trying to say as she sucked on his collar bone, hard enough to leave a mark.

"Ah," he half protested, half groaned. "No, wait, listen to me."

He put one hand on her chin, turning her to look at him. "It's been well documented that wanting sex is a very normal psychological reaction to grief," he explained.

"So? I'm not grieving." Chloe said breathlessly.

"Well, you have had some potentially bad news today."

Chloe considered the information for a moment.

"Uh, with all due respect to your medical knowledge, I don't care." She stepped back and lifted her top, removing it to reveal a black lacy bra. "And besides, I declared all medical-related conversations off limits, remember?"

"Yeah, but I just want you to be…" House tried again, not sure why he was trying to talk her out of this, just wanting to be sure she knew what she was doing.

Chloe cut him short by moving back close to him and gently massaging him through his jeans. He stopped talking and caught his lower lip with his teeth at the sensations she provoked.

Chloe removed her hand to grab his and led him over to the bed. She pushed him to sit down and knelt on the floor to remove his shoes and socks. That done, she sat on the bed next to him and started work on his belt. She leant in and whispered in his ear.

"I know this probably isn't the smartest thing for us to do," she nibbled briefly on his earlobe. "But I do know that I want you, and you seem to want me, and that is enough for now."

House groaned his assent and pulled her back to lie on the bed with him. He ran his hands over her stomach and arms, deliberately avoiding her breasts, as she deftly undid the buttons of his shirt. He sat up again to let her roll the sleeves down his arms and pull his t-shirt over his head.

He reached behind her and flicked the catch of her bra open, pulling the straps down her arms. Now they were both topless. He leaned back and pulled her on top of him, gasping as their naked skin made contact.

She leant into him, kissing him hungrily, loving the feel of her erect nipples against the light prickle of his chest hair. She threw her left leg between his, rubbing against him with her thigh. In return, he raised his knee so she could rub herself against his leg. She moaned into his mouth.

After a moment, Chloe pulled away, flushed and panting.

"More," she whispered, pulling at his jeans.

Before attending to clothing, House couldn't resist reaching over and cupping a breast in his hand, lowering his head to kiss her nipple. When he took it into his mouth to suck, she could feel the pull through her whole body. It was more than she could bear and she impatiently began undoing her own jeans, struggling to pull them off without dislodging his mouth from her breast. It was a futile effort and eventually she put a hand on his chin to pull his mouth away.

"Jeans, off," she commanded.

House obeyed promptly, not taking his eyes from her as he watched her discard first her jeans and then her underwear. He pulled off his boxer shorts and turned to her, about to pull her underneath him when a cold thought stopped him in his tracks.

"Chloe," he said raggedly. She had dropped her head to kiss his shoulder and was making her way down his chest when she looked up at him, distracted by his tone.

"I don't have any condoms with me. I didn't think…" His passion was starting to fade as he thought of all the consequences they'd so recently experienced by chancing it without contraception.

Chloe stood up abruptly and walked over to her suitcase. She rummaged around in one of the pockets for a while and came up with two square packages.

"I don't go anywhere without them anymore," she shrugged. "Not that I've actually had any sex. But just in case."

House smiled sadly at her admission. He hadn't been with anyone else either since their last time together.

Chloe returned his sad smile and they shared a moment of melancholy. The idea of getting pregnant again… she stopped the thought before it could go any further.

Looking over at House's flagging erection, she realised the contraception discussion had done nothing to fuel his desire. But despite the momentary sadness, Chloe still wanted him, wanted this. At least, she was pretty sure she did.

Mentally flinging aside her reservations, she strode back over to the bed, putting the condoms on the nightstand. She knelt on the bed and moved over him, taking him in her mouth. At the touch of her flicking tongue and hot, wet mouth, House's fervour was suddenly restored. He ran his hands through her hair, groaning each time she took him in fully.

When she judged him ready, Chloe slid off him and grabbed a condom from the bedside table. She dressed him quickly and then returned to his mouth to kiss him thoroughly, continuing to ignore the nagging thoughts in the back of her mind.

House rolled her beneath him, leaning over her to continue the kiss. He trailed one hand down her stomach and threaded it through her damp curls, stroking her skilfully. She cried out, arching her head back into the pillow.

"Please," she begged.

House looked down at her face, knowing he had to ask, just once more. Despite her pleas there was something in her eyes that made him feel uncertain; he could have sworn it was fear.

"Are you sure?" He paused his ministrations to her for a moment.

Chloe gasped. "Don't stop now," she pleaded.

He had a sudden thought.

"It might hurt," he advised. "If the scarring…" he broke off as she started to stroke him intently with her hand.

"I know. Just shut up and do it before I lose my nerve," Chloe snapped, pulling his head to hers to kiss away any offence she might have caused.

At her comment, the puzzle pieces fell into place for House. What he'd seen _was_ fear because she _was_ scared. She hadn't had sex since they'd last been together. She was not only worried it might hurt; she connected it with the pregnancy. This was a big deal for her.

Chloe closed her eyes as she kissed him and kept them tightly shut. She wanted this, she kept telling herself. On one hand, she knew she really did, her body was responding, almost too enthusiastically; its biological needs not met for the past seven months of self-imposed celibacy and the taste she'd had the other morning hadn't been nearly enough. On the other hand, she was terrified, but of what exactly she wasn't sure.

She caught her breath when she felt him move up and over her, putting a knee between hers to nudge her legs apart. He leant down to kiss her again, but this time his kiss was different, just lips, pressing gently, reassuringly, against hers. His slow kiss unlocked something in her and she relaxed again, the shadow of her fear fading in the light of her ever-increasing desire.

"If it hurts, you just have to tell me to stop," he whispered to her before comforting her with his soft kisses again.

He entered her slowly, allowing her to adjust to his pressure as he went. She sighed against his lips once he was fully sheathed.

"Just give me a second," she breathed, her eyes still closed, taking in the sensations.

House nodded and began nuzzling her neck, waiting for her to let him know she was ready to continue.

After a moment, she lifted her legs to wrap them around him, deepening the penetration. She gasped a little, because it did hurt, but the hurt was so profoundly entwined with pleasure she could barely tell the difference.

"Ready," she whispered and House groaned in response. He wasn't sure how much longer he would have been able to stay still in her wet heat. He kissed her softly again and began moving inside her.

With each thrust, Chloe could feel radiating waves of pain through her pelvis. But in some mysterious way, the pain picked up her pleasure and magnified it until she wasn't sure if it was hurting or not.

The sensations moved through her until she could feel the pain/pleasure in every nerve ending in her body. She never usually came from penetration alone and in the past House had always been gallant about making sure she 'finished' afterwards. But this time she could feel the unmistakable approach of orgasm as his thrusts speeded up and his rhythm became more ragged.

Unable to hold back any longer, she arched and cried out, a guttural noise halfway between 'Greg' and 'God', digging her heels into the backs of his legs.

House could feel her spasming around him, watched her face contort as she came. It took just a couple more strokes and he was joining her, surprising himself with a low moan that escaped from him without his permission. When he had ridden out his orgasm he couldn't stop himself from collapsing on top of her, completely out of breath.

Chloe wrapped her arms around him, her legs still gripping his thighs, pulling him tight to her. She wasn't sure whether it was his pulse or her own that she could feel all over, both of their hearts working to keep up with the strain they'd put their bodies through. She ran a finger down his back, tracing a rivulet of sweat.

Once his breathing had returned almost to normal, House rolled off her and grabbed a handful of tissues from the bedside table to take care of the condom.

Chloe rose on shaky legs to pour them each a whisky. She caught her breath from a tearing pain when she stood up after bending to collect glasses from a low shelf, but steadied herself to pour the drinks and grab a vial of Vicoden from the bathroom.

She returned to bed just as he was fluffing up the pillows so they'd have something to lean back on.

She handed him a drink and the pills. He expertly flicked the top off with one hand and raised a questioning eyebrow to her.

"Yes, please," she said quietly, holding out her hand, feeling a little unsettled by this new familiarity they had through medication. He shook a pill into her palm before tipping the vial up to his mouth and swallowing one himself.

"Cheers," Chloe chinked her glass against his, took a swig and then settled back onto the pillows.

They were silent for a moment, sipping their drinks contemplatively. Then finally Chloe began giggling.

"What?" House asked, suspiciously.

"I was just thinking that now I know the secret to having the best orgasms of your life," Chloe admitted with a grin.

"What's that?" House asked, preparing for some compliments on his prowess as a lover.

"Don't have any for seven months."

"What?" House was incredulous. "You mean you haven't only gone without sex, but you've gone without… totally?"

"Yep," Chloe confirmed, nodding. "No wonder I was getting a bit desperate."

"Desperate?" House questioned. From her light-hearted tone, they obviously weren't going to be discussing her reasons for avoiding sex. And that was more than fine with him. "Weren't you just overcome by my wit and charm?"

"Oh yeah, that must be it," she agreed, finishing her drink. "As Austen Powers would say, _I'm shagged, baby_. Literally and figuratively." She giggled again at her own witticism, putting the glass down on the bedside table and nestling down into the covers to sleep, automatically curling up a little to relieve the pain in her belly.

"Hang on, didn't we come up here to eat?" House nudged her as her eyes closed.

"Room service menu's near the TV. Go for your life," she mumbled.

House grumbled a little, but then smiled as he watched her fall asleep before his very eyes. _Best orgasms of her life, huh?_ He couldn't help feeling a huge sense of satisfaction at watching her more-or-less pass out as a result of his love making skills.

He got up and grabbed the menu and poured another drink, dialling room service for a BLT, a side of fries, a chef's salad and a chocolate sundae. For some reason he was _really_ hungry.


	8. Chapter 8

_Saturday_

When Chloe woke up the next morning two things amazed her. First was that she had slept the whole night through without needing to top up her pain killers, although now that she was awake, she had to admit the throbbing pain in her gut told her it was well overdue. She reached over the sleeping man next to her to grab the pills from the nightstand and swallowed one quickly.

The second amazing thing was that her movement stirred him and in his sleep he reached for her, curling an arm around her body and pulling her into him. She readily complied, curling her body into his, enjoying the feel of his slightly sweaty warmth and his breath in her hair.

In the whole time she'd known him, he hadn't ever been given over to displays of affection outside sex, whether public or private. She told herself not to make too much of it; she still remembered uttering the 'L' word in the bar the other night and his stunned and slightly shocked look showed he really hadn't been prepared to hear it. But still, she thought as she unthinkingly stroked the strong arm wrapped around her, she might as well appreciate it, even if he was asleep.

It was then that she noticed the plates and trays on the table in the room, clear evidence of a copious order from room service. She couldn't believe she'd slept through all that. It was obvious: drugs, booze and sex were the cure to her pain – she'd just been missing the third ingredient these past months.

Chloe lay still for a while, watching the red display of the digital clock tick through the minutes. After about half an hour the drugs kicked in and she started feeling sleepy again. Chloe decided there was no harm in closing her eyes for a moment – after all it was still only seven-thirty and it _was_ a Saturday.

The next time she opened her eyes the clock read nine-thirty and she'd been having a marvellous dream. In her dream she was just on the cusp of orgasm, having been touched and stroked into a messy heap of desire and want. She had reached out her hand and grasped a full and eager erection that she'd teased further with her fingers.

Then a husky voice whispered in her ear.

"You did have two condoms, didn't you?"

The lines between dream and reality broke down as she felt his body move over her, reaching for the small package on the bedside table.

Still hazy from sleep, she cracked one eye open to watch as he rolled on the condom and moved over her, avoiding her mouth and kissing her neck.

"Morning breath," he muttered, and she was struck by how simultaneously unromantic and yet considerate the gesture was.

But in the morning light he'd forgotten the need for his care the night before. Despite her definite if sleepy arousal, when he penetrated her in one possessive move it hurt, a red-hot poker of pain, and she cried out.

It was clearly a cry of pain, not pleasure, and House immediately froze.

"Oh God, Chloe. Are you OK?"

Her body had tensed with the hurt and he was gripped inside her, somewhat painfully. She was breathing heavily, trying to contain the tears of pain that had sprung to her eyes.

"I'll be fine, just give me a moment," she said through gritted teeth. She willed her body to relax, to surrender. She didn't want her pain to ruin what was happening between them.

Through pure force of will, Chloe pushed the ache from her mind, and smiled back at House's concerned look above her.

"I'm fine, honestly, you just took me by surprise," she bluffed. "I think I'm still asleep, really."

She put all her efforts into relaxing the muscles in the lower half of her body, allowing him the freedom to move again.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, sincerely concerned about her.

"No, don't. I love feeling you inside me like this." Which was true, she told herself. Then she spent the next few minutes waiting for the sounds and rhythm that indicated he was close to finishing, eyes closed, continuing to will her body not to give her away. It wasn't that she wasn't keen, she was wet enough, but this morning the pain and pleasure just weren't merging in the same way they had the night before.

Finally he jerked in that special way and she watched his face contort. She felt him twitch inside her and despite the condom, could have sworn she felt his hot fluid leaking out of her.

She reached for him, clasping him to her, feeling the receding ache in her pelvis replaced by a just as considerable ache in her heart. She was really getting too attached to this man.

House rolled off her and reached out to grab another handful of tissues.

"Your maid is so going to know that you've been a naughty girl," he quipped as he pulled the tissues from the box and removed the condom. Then he paused.

"Uh, Chloe, you're bleeding."

"What?" She glanced over and saw the crimson stains on the tissues in his hand.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," she apologised.

"What are you apologising for? You're the one who's bleeding." He immediately got concerned. "How is your pain? Does anything feel different?" He moved across the bed toward her.

"No, I'm fine," Chloe shrank away from him in embarrassment and rose out of the bed. She got up and moved towards the bathroom. "It's probably just my period. I never know when it's going to happen these days. I'll sort it out."

She closed the bathroom door firmly behind her.

House sat on the bed for a while, wondering what to do. She was right, it most likely was just her period. If it was bleeding from something else, then she'd soon have other symptoms that would give it away. No need to panic.

He heard the shower running and he turned on the TV for something to do while he waited. She emerged from the bathroom a while later, looking refreshed but pale, wrapped in a white hotel dressing gown.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Will you _stop_ asking me that?" Chloe couldn't help her sharp retort. She was so_sick_ of being the invalid.

House was a master at never showing his emotions, that's why he always won at poker. But Chloe couldn't miss the flash of hurt that crossed his face, momentary as it was. She was immediately apologetic, not wanting to spoil the wonderful last few hours they'd spent together.

She crossed to the bed and enveloped him in a hug, a gesture he didn't return. She sat down cross-legged on the bed, tucking the gown around her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. See, it must be my period because I obviously have PMS," she tried to joke.

House childishly continued to watch the TV as if he hadn't heard her.

If he was going to play the child then she'd treat him like one. She patted him on the head.

"What can I do to make things better? Would you like a treat?" she cajoled. "Would you like some pancakes? With syrup? Or lemon and sugar?"

House looked at her from the corner of his eye, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

"Would you like to see a movie? We can have popcorn if you're a good boy…"

House pounced on her and started tickling her ribs.

Chloe laughed genuinely, trying catching her breath between giggles.

"That's for making fun of me," he teased, continuing to tickle her mercilessly.

"I wasn't teasing," she protested breathlessly. "I really will buy you pancakes and take you to a movie, just… just… stop it!"

House stopped abruptly. "All right then, that's all I wanted to hear." He rose and closed the door in the bathroom, Chloe heard running water soon after.

She lay back on the bed, catching her breath, still grinning at his uncharacteristic levity. She grabbed another Vicoden and walked to the closet to select her clothes for the day.

--------------------------------------------------

By late in the afternoon, they were back in Chloe's hotel room having gone out for pancakes and to see a movie that both of them declared vapid and boring. They were lying on the bed, kissing lazily as the sun set and turned the room various shades of red and gold.

"You didn't get a turn this morning," House whispered in her ear. "I'm an equal opportunity kinda guy. Want to have a go now?"

Chloe pulled away and looked at him a little sheepishly.

"I don't think I can manage any more shenanigans. I'm a bit achy," she admitted reluctantly, feeling she owed him the truth.

"Shenanigans? Furthest thing from my mind, I assure you," House said lightly. Then his tone changed. "But at the risk of incurring your wrath again, can I ask after your health?"

Chloe smiled at him, sorry that she'd made him feel bad just because he was concerned about her.

"Sorry about snapping earlier. I'm feeling fine," she answered, not quite truthfully. "I have taken a few more pills than I normally would, but I think that's understandable given our recent activities."

"And the bleeding's not unusually heavy or anything?"

Chloe shook her head and blushed a little. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to having a doctor as a boyfriend."

She saw House twitch a little at the word _boyfriend_ but she mentally shrugged and decided to leave it out there. It was a ridiculous word for any man over twenty anyway, but how else was she to describe him?

"That is so not a question a normal man would ask," she added.

House shrugged. It was just what he was used to.

"As you have probably already discovered, I am not a normal man."

Chloe laughed – a little at him, a little to cover her own squeamishness about sharing the details with him.

"No, it is not any heavier than normal, thank you for asking," she said with mock politeness, joking to cover her embarrassment. In fact, the bleeding had pretty much stopped, but she was sure it was just part of her body's now completely incomprehensible cycle.

There was still a little left in the whisky bottle from the night before, and Chloe rose to pour them both a drink. They sat together in silence on the bed for a while, watching the final dying rays of the sunset, savouring their drinks and new-found intimacy. It made Chloe feel brave and she thought it might be time to finally answer his question.

"I sometimes think we would have kept it," she said, quietly.

"What?" House asked, but as soon as the word left his mouth he knew what she meant.

"Oh," he nodded. _Why would she choose to have this conversation now?_ he wondered. Perhaps he was being selfish, he reflected: he had wanted to talk about it the other night and she hadn't, now she did and he didn't.

"I mean, I've thought about what might have happened. A lot," she admitted. "I have to confess I indulged the white-picket fence ideal, that we'd end up like the Bradys – only with fewer kids, of course."

"Uh, yeah, fewer than six is preferable," he mumbled.

"I mean, obviously it wouldn't be that idyllic, but we're talking about fiction not fact anyway. But mostly, I think I would have had an abortion …" she trailed off, discouraged by his apparent lack of interest in the conversation.

"Why?" House asked, now that she'd brought it up, his original curiosity resurfaced. He realised he still wanted to know.

"It's my fortieth birthday on Friday." She didn't say anything further for a while, lost in reverie for a moment.

"Uh, happy birthday?" House prompted.

"Oh, sorry, lost in another world," she apologised. "I just mean I decided a long time ago that I didn't want to have children, but that was partly because I didn't really have the opportunity even if I _had_ wanted to. I was single for most of my early thirties when all my friends were off having kids and I just decided I'd missed my window."

"So, I'm confused, wouldn't that mean that getting pregnant at thirty-nine would be a second chance? Why would you choose to have an abortion?"

"Are you against abortion?" she asked, curious because she hadn't expected him to be conservative in that way.

"No, I'm not, but I don't understand what you're saying. If you only decided you didn't want kids because you thought you'd missed out, but then you got pregnant accidentally, why would you get rid of it?"

Chloe paused but decided to tell him the truth.

"Because even though I'm ambivalent about having a baby, I definitely don't want to be a single mother."

House was lost for words. It was another moment in his life when the picture of how he saw himself clashed momentously with how other people saw him. She was basically saying that she figured he would have walked out on her. He was offended beyond speaking.

Finally he managed to find words, heated with anger.

"It's nice to know you think so highly of me."

Chloe was chilled by his tone. "It's not that at all," she tried, defending herself. "It's just that I've watched my sister Elle with her two kids and she's …"

"Do you really think I would do something like that?" he interrupted, raising his voice. "Do you?"

"Well, I don't think either of us can know how we'd really react…" Chloe tried to back-pedal a bit, seeing the sparks of anger flashing in his eyes.

"You think I'm the kind of bastard that would walk out on his own child?"

"No, that's not what I meant, I just…"

"That's exactly what you meant. You said you'd be left a single mother."

"No, I just meant that neither of us are the kind of people to stay in a dysfunctional relationship," Chloe tried to explain, already exhausted by the argument. "We're too headstrong, too uncompromising to put up with something that makes us unhappy. No matter how much we loved our child, it would never be enough. And back then, at least, we didn't know each other well enough to know whether or not our relationship would work."

"And now?" His anger wasn't abating a bit.

"Now I think I know you better. We've known each other for a over a year now Greg, but the past couple of days have been different…"

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"I think I know you better and now I think we would have had a chance. If we'd gone through with it," she tried, hoping that would placate him.

"So you think we can just take up where we left off seven months ago?" he asked, a new quieter, colder and altogether more menacing tone in his voice.

"Well, not exactly, but I was hoping…" she trailed off. Was he right? Was that what she was hoping for?

"You were hoping that you could do what you did and waltz back into my life after seven months, call me your _boyfriend_ and I'd be perfectly fine with that."

Chloe was chilled by his tone.

"Greg, I've really appreciated – and needed – your support in the last couple of days. But I… It wasn't something I expected or planned for." She pleaded with him to understand even as her anger with him was mounting. "All I was trying to say is that if we had decided to have a baby together…"

"But you just said you would have had an abortion," House's voice rose, losing its cold intensity, returning to heated fury.

"Yes, but…" Chloe felt trapped in a circular argument, sure she wouldn't win against his superior verbal skills.

"So it's a pointless debate," House stated.

"_Of course_ it's a pointless debate," Chloe said, her voice rising to match his; her anger bubbling over. "It never happened! We didn't have to make the decision! It's like arguing whether spacemen would beat cavemen in a fight. The outcome is irrelevant – you're just arguing for the sake of arguing!"

"Irrelevant?" House rose and grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair. He looked at her coldly. "Fine."

He didn't even slam the door, just closed it with the same cold fury with which he'd fought.

Chloe sat on the bed as if shell-shocked. She felt as if she'd been picked up by tornado and viciously spun around before being put back right where she started.

She just made it into the bathroom in time to throw up the whisky and the two pancakes and handful of popcorn she'd eaten earlier in the day. After rinsing her mouth and taking a few deep breaths, she decided there was no other option and took a double dose of Vicoden and crawled under the blankets without undressing. Moments later she fell into a drugged and restless sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

_Sunday_

Chloe decided to spend the whole day in bed, topping up on drugs whenever she seemed in danger of becoming too fully conscious. She watched television listlessly, sleeping on and off. Around the middle of the day she tried eating something, but her stomach was still churning with anxiety and she couldn't keep it down.

Her pain was much worse than normal, but she put it all down to the emotional ups and downs of the last twenty-four hours. Despite the test results, she was sure that there was something to her psychological-cause-of-pain theory.

She indulged in feeling sorry for herself when she thought about everything she'd gone through and everything still facing her. Tomorrow she would find out whether or not she had cancer and, regardless of that outcome, she was most likely facing surgery of some kind. Then there was the mess she'd made of her growing new connection with House. Everything had been going so nicely and then they'd gone and fought about the most delicate topic they had at their disposal. She should have known things were going too well.

Chloe sniffed and rolled over in the bed, wrapping her arms around her knees to try to comfort herself.

In the late evening she woke with a start in a cold sweat. She'd had an awful nightmare in which she did have cancer and she'd died – at least everyone else thought she had. But really she was still alive, yelling out to them, screaming for them to hear her. When she was lowered her into her coffin she couldn't make any sound, couldn't move at all. But it didn't matter anyway because there was no one there to hear her – not one person came to her funeral, no family, no friends, no Greg House.

Chloe got up and showered, hoping to wash away her anxiety in the hot water. She dressed and paced around her room for a while, hoping to distract herself, trying not to take any more pain meds for a while knowing that she'd already taken more than the recommended dosage for a whole day in just the past few hours.

Finally she realised there was only one thing that was going to help. Picking up her cell phone, she paused for a moment before dialling, hesitant about what to expect.

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House had left Chloe's hotel room the night before and driven home, his anger still barely contained. Once home he tried to sleep, but his brain was still too busy processing. He thought of all the sharp, vicious things he could have said to her. Finally he slept, but he woke up irritable and in pain from his leg.

He spent the day doing his least favourite chore, laundry, choosing it deliberately to suit his bad mood, until he was called into the hospital. He spent most of the afternoon there, sniping at everyone he came into contact with. Finally in frustration his team sent him home as soon as they were reasonably sure they'd nailed the diagnosis. He'd just settled in front of a hockey game with a beer when his cell phone rang.

When he saw Chloe's name on the caller ID he thought churlishly about not answering. Eventually he sighed, picked it up and answered brusquely.

"House."

"Hi Greg, it's Chloe." Her voice sounded hesitant, unsure.

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone making it sound ruder than he'd actually meant it.

Chloe paused, maybe this had been a bad idea after all. But she didn't really know what else to do.

"I know it's late and that I have no right to ask any favours from you, but I'm not feeling great and could do with some company."

House sighed. As much as he knew they couldn't leave things as they were – if nothing else he was conscious of the appointment with Wilson the next day and it would help if things were civil between them – he really didn't feel up to fighting it out with her right then.

"I know this sounds ridiculous," she continued, "but I had this nightmare and I was alive but everyone thought I was dead and I couldn't scream…" she gave a sad little laugh at herself.

"I think I'm probably just worried about tomorrow, you know…" She trailed off, taking in a short breath that she hoped might have sounded a little like a sob on the other end of the phone.

She at least had the decency to feel a strong pang of shame at her tactics. _Look at what I've been reduced to_, she thought. Manipulative and conniving were not adjectives she wanted to associate with herself, but right now all she wanted was to be near him, whatever it took…

"OK… I guess… I'll come over," House reluctantly agreed, setting his beer down and starting to rise.

"Um… would it be OK if I came over to your place? I'm kind of going stir-crazy in this hotel room." Chloe crossed her fingers, knowing she was really pushing it now.

House considered her self-invitation. On the plus-side it meant less effort for him, but if she was here he couldn't leave whenever he wanted to. He sank back down on the couch and picked up his beer again.

"Sure, come over. But you need to bring some beer, I'm all out."

"OK. I'll be about thirty minutes." Chloe smiled as she flipped her phone closed. Maybe he might forgive her after all.

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When House opened the door to her knock, Chloe handed him a six-pack of swing-top Grolsch bottles.

"Peace offering?" She smiled as sweetly as she could.

House had to give her credit.

"You chose… wisely," he Indiana Jonesed. He grabbed the beers and went through to the kitchen to put them in the fridge.

"Want one?" he called out to her.

Chloe closed the door and took off her jacket, draping it over a nearby chair.

"No thanks." She didn't think it would be a good idea to top off her pain-killer over-indulgence with alcohol. She wandered around the lounge for a moment, feeling slightly strange to back there after all that had happened. Last time she'd been here she'd been carried out by paramedics. She shook her head, having no wish to relive the memories.

House had returned to the sofa and propped his legs up on the coffee table. She took a seat next to him, watching the hockey game for a while.

"Is this a really important game?" she asked quietly.

"Not really. Why?"

"I was just wondering whether or not it would be a good idea to interrupt your watching with talking."

"You can talk, as long as I can keep watching," House offered.

"OK."

Chloe fell silent again for a while, watching as a goal was scored and the spectators erupted. He hadn't kissed her or touched her, or in anyway let her know that he cared she was there, but just the fact that she was sitting near him made her feel immeasurably better.

"Thanks for this," she said. "And sorry for the emotional blackmail," she added lightly.

House rolled his eyes. "Oh, daddy, I had a nightmare, I'm scared of the monsters, please let me come stay with you," he pleaded in a mocking tone.

"Oh, puh-lease," he added sarcastically, letting her know that he knew exactly how she'd tried to manipulate him.

She punched him playfully on the arm.

"Hey, I really did have a nightmare."

"Yeah, sure." He turned his attention back to the game.

Chloe decided not to contradict him and took his teasing as an olive branch. She sat still for a moment, hesitating, wondering if she should bring up their argument from the previous night. Finally she decided she wanted the air clear on at least one of the things they'd debated.

"Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"I want you to know that I didn't plan that we would just take things up where we left off."

He grunted in response, not taking his eyes from the TV.

"I'll be perfectly honest – originally I was hoping not to see you at all. But almost as soon as I did I knew I wanted you back in my life. Not to take up where we left off – but maybe to start again? We can't wipe the slate clean, but do you think maybe we can try again? Knowing each other, knowing what we've shared…" she trailed off.

House didn't respond straight away, needing a moment to think about what she had said. Finally he turned to her, piercing her with a confused, blue-eyed look.

"I think I know what you mean."

Chloe frowned, puzzled. "But now I don't know what you mean. Are you agreeing?"

"Can we not do this now?" House sighed and shook his head. "It's late, we're both tired, you've got a big day tomorrow. There's plenty of time for us to talk about this." He turned back to the TV.

"OK." Chloe decided not to push, despite gaining no satisfaction from his answer. She felt at least a tiny bit reassured by his comment that they had plenty of time and that he seemed to understand where she was at – that would have to be good enough for her for now.

"Uh, can I ask you a medical question then?" she asked tentatively, changing the subject.

"I thought wasn't supposed to behave like your doctor," House snapped, still needled by what he at some level interpreted as distrust in him, in his skills.

"I know, but just at the moment there isn't anyone else around to ask. How many is too many pain killers?"

"Why?" he narrowed his eyes with suspicion at her. "How many have you taken?"

"I've taken the maximum daily allowance of Percocet as per the label on the bottle," she said self-righteously. So what if she'd taken the maximum dose since midday? So what if she'd moved on to the Percocet because her Vicoden had run out?

"But they always play it safe with those things, don't they?" she wheedled. "Couldn't I have more?"

"Do you really need more?" he asked, aware of his own hypocrisy.

She sighed and dropped the playful tone. "Yes, I really do."

House looked at her closely and recognised her seriousness. "You could take another 20 milligrams of Percocet before you go to bed."

He was glad the tests were tomorrow. If her pain was that bad it would be better for her to be in hospital with an IV and someone monitoring her intake. He'd talk to Wright about getting her admitted.

Chloe rose and rummaged through her purse, grabbing a pill, and then moved into the kitchen and filled a glass of water, swallowing it all with the tablet. She stood still for a while, not liking the response from her stomach to the water. A hazy feeling of nausea that she had been battling all day suddenly came to the fore. She took deep breaths, trying to contain the feeling, but when the saliva filled her mouth she knew without doubt she was going to throw up.

Walking as slowly as she could to the bathroom, she wondered if there was any way he wasn't going to hear. For reasons still not clear to her, it was important to her not to let him know how sick she was feeling.

When she got there and closed the door, all that came up was the water she'd just drunk and, disappointingly, the pill. She wondered if it was just her body's way of saying it didn't want any more drugs. She rinsed out her mouth and paused for a moment to let the nausea abate. Her stomach had settled a little; she decided that it had just been that she'd drunk all that water in one go and hadn't really eaten anything that day.

Chloe returned to the lounge and curled up in a corner of the sofa away from House, feeling weak and a little shaky from the vomiting. She tried to think about the test tomorrow, what she would do in either eventuality, but her brain seemed unwilling to allow her to follow that train of thought. When she imagined telling someone that she had cancer, she simply couldn't visualise it, had no idea what words she would use.

Out of the corner of his eye, House saw Chloe sitting very still on the sofa, could practically hear the wheels turning in her mind. She looked pale and tired. He knew there was nothing to be gained from worrying, but he knew equally well there was no point in telling her not to.

He was about to ask how she was feeling, but decided he couldn't bear to utter the words again, especially as it would just probably make her defensive. He decided to make it an observation instead of a question.

"You don't look very well."

Chloe put on a bright smile that she didn't feel. "I'm fine."

"I assume you're going to stay here tonight?" he asked.

"Is that OK?" she replied. She hadn't wanted to be too presumptuous, but had put clean underwear, deodorant and her toothbrush in her purse. Besides, she seriously doubted she had the energy to make it back to the hotel now, she felt completely drained.

"Sure. Why don't you go to bed? It's late and you've taken that extra dose, so you'll probably sleep."

So he hadn't heard her in the bathroom. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea," she agreed. Despite feeling ill, she couldn't help the touch of disappointment that struck her as she watched him open another beer – he obviously wasn't about to head to bed himself. Still, she had no idea whether she'd be able to do anything with him if they were in bed together anyway.

She rummaged in her purse for her iPod, figuring she'd listen to some music to help her sleep, especially now that she didn't seem up to taking any chemical assistance.

"Music?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Helps me sleep."

"What, that ridiculous European electronica is a sedative? Actually…" He gave her a slightly condescending look.

"You looked through my iPod?" She didn't know whether to feel flattered or offended that something very personal had been invaded.

"The other night when you were sleeping. Just thought I'd check it out."

She just shook her head at him, not sure what to say.

"Your appointment's at ten, right?" he asked, seeing that it was time to change the subject.

Chloe nodded.

"If you don't mind going in a little earlier, we can go in together."

"That'd be nice."

She leant over on the sofa to give him a brief kiss. Just as she pulled back to get up, he grabbed her arm.

"You know, everything is going to be all right." He looked at her, hating the triteness of his words, but wanting to find some way to reassure her, both about the tests tomorrow and whatever was happening between them. He honestly didn't know how things would turn out between them, but he did know he wanted to make her feel better and, in his books, that counted as quite a bit.

She smiled wryly. "Yeah, you're probably right."

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Chloe slept fitfully. Just before two, House grabbed his pillow and a spare blanket and moved out to the couch, unable to sleep next to her constant tossing and turning. He knew he'd pay for it the next day with his leg, but he needed to get some rest.

She woke at three, nauseous and cold but sweaty, to find him no longer next to her. She got up and padded around the silent apartment in her bare feet, finding him snoring quietly on the couch. Silently she watched him sleep for a while, then grabbed her purse containing her drugs, filled a nearby coffee mug with water, and returned to the bedroom.

It was always the night when it hurt the most. She knew from bitter experience that the early morning hours could drag interminably, and it wasn't just the physical pain that made them almost unendurable.

She still felt nauseous and a little dizzy and was finding it hard to concentrate. She couldn't quire remember when she'd last taken any pills, not counting the one she'd thrown up. _Surely it would be OK more?_ she thought. At least then she'd sleep.

Being careful to take only small sips of water, Chloe swallowed a double dose of Percocet and lay back, bunching the covers around her, unsure if she was hot or cold.

She slept for just half an hour or so before finding herself awake and in pain again. She'd lost all sense of time and when she found House's Vicoden on the nightstand she took a couple, somehow rationalising that it must be better than taking more Percocet. Her throat was dry and she took a few more careful sips of water, but as she placed the cup back on the bedside table her trembling hand missed the edge and the mug crashed to the ground with a loud crack.

"Shit," Chloe swore.

"Are you destroying the place now?" a gruff voice called from the lounge after a moment.

"Sorry," she called back. "Just broke a coffee mug. Go back to sleep."

House sighed at the interruption to his sleep. He felt as if he'd only just nodded off.

"Do you need help to clean it up?" he asked, resentful that he had to.

"No," Chloe called. She was mopping up the spilled water with a towel that had been lying on the floor near the bed and had picked up the cup – it had cracked cleanly into two pieces. "It's fine. Sleep."

"We need to get you admitted tomorrow," House called back to her.

"Yeah, whatever," Chloe dismissed his concern, upset that she'd disturbed him, especially when she was the reason he was sleeping on the couch in his own home. "Sleep."

Deciding to leave any further clean up til the morning, Chloe left the towel on the floor and put the broken mug on the dresser. She found herself having to move carefully, hanging on to furniture to keep steady on her feet. She didn't think the pills would work that quickly, but then she didn't have much else in her stomach for her body to work on. Even just thinking about her stomach brought back the need to vomit. She dropped back into bed and tried to lie still as possible.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Hi all, sorry for the short chapter, but it made the most sense to break the story this way. Thanks heaps to all of you for your reviews and support.

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_Monday_

House woke at eight, stiff and sore from his night on the couch, but at least he'd got a decent few hours of sleep.

He stretched and groaned, massaging his leg to try to work out the knots of pain. He automatically reached for his Vicoden, but then realised the vial was in the bedroom.

With a grimace, he rose and limped up the corridor, dragging the blanket behind him. He found the bottle lying open on the bedside table next to Chloe, grabbed it and swallowed two pills quickly.

House looked down at her, her sleep-flushed face pretty in the morning light. She'd flung the covers back at some point and he could just see one shapely leg and the neck of one of his t-shirts poking out from under the navy blue sheet. He still didn't understand the fondness she had for sleeping in his clothes. Especially when he'd much prefer her to be naked.

He was a light sleeper and he knew she'd had a bad night. She'd been up walking around at least twice and then of course there was the broken coffee mug – he glanced over and saw it sitting on the dresser.

He gave her a nudge, reluctant to disturb her sleep, but they did need to get moving.

Chloe stirred half-heartedly and buried her face in the pillow with a groan.

"No," her voice was muffled.

"Come on, time to get up. Do you want the first shower?"

"Nee' sleep. You go," her sleepy voice slurred.

House left her, seeing no harm in giving her a little longer to sleep. He showered and dressed and then made coffee. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom, sipping from his cup. She'd fallen back into a sound sleep and he decided it wouldn't be a big problem if he was late – he had wanted to check in with the team on the progress of yesterday's patient, but he figured if anything important was going on, they'd call. He walked back into the lounge and picked up a journal to catch up on some reading.

Once it reached nine he went back into the bedroom.

"Chloe, time to get up, you've had an extra hour to sleep."

She murmured something incomprehensible.

"Get up or you'll miss your appointment."

Chloe moved an arm out of the bed, flinging the sheet back. Satisfied that she was moving, House turned and went back to his reading in the lounge and a few moments later he heard the sound of the bathroom door closing. After turning a few pages House suddenly realised that he hadn't heard the sound of running water as he'd expect if Chloe was in the shower – he was going to kill her if she'd gone back to bed. He sighed and got up to check.

"Chloe, if you're not getting ready you're going to be late," he said warningly, rapping briefly before opening the bathroom door.

As the door swung open he saw Chloe sitting on the floor, leaning against the glass of the shower screen.

"Are you OK?" House knelt down awkwardly next her, wishing he had a dollar for every time he'd asked her that question in the past forty-eight hours.

Chloe had her eyes screwed tightly shut, but tears were still managing to leak out.

"I couldn' get any further. Hurts so much." Her words were still slightly slurred and to House's practiced eyes her breathing seemed faster than normal.

"It shouldn't be this bad," House frowned. "How many Percocet did you take?"

"Don't really remember," she said, sounding almost drunkenly confused. "Four, I think," She held up four fingers to help explain. "And maybe a couple of Vicoden too."

"Fuck Chloe, that's enough to down a horse." House leaned in and pulled her eyelids up, checking her pupils. As he did, he felt the heat of her face.

"And you're burning up." He ran his hands over her feverish face and neck, guessing 102 at least.

"Have you been vomiting?"

Chloe nodded, aware enough to take in his worried expression.

"When?"

She frowned, trying to concentrate on forming an answer.

"Last couple of days," she murmured, closing her eyes again. "And last night, before bed."

"What, here?" House asked, disbelieving.

Chloe nodded. "I was quiet." She smiled weakly.

House sat back, remembering her pale face when she'd returned from the bathroom. He sagged, mentally kicking himself for letting things get this far. How could he have missed it? After a moment he decided that now was not the time for self-recrimination. Bringing himself back into the present, he considered whether to call the paramedics or drive her to hospital himself. Driving would be faster, but he couldn't carry her and if she passed out on the way to the car he'd be stuck. Paramedics it would have to be.

"Jesus," he muttered, half to her and half to himself, "when my neighbours see you being taken out of here on a stretcher _again_, they're gonna call a hotline."

He rose and went into the lounge to make the call, sighing loudly. He shook his head, wondering what he'd done to deserve this happening to him, not just once, but twice.

Chloe moved her head, trying to press her face into the cool glass. She felt groggy, whether from the pain or the drugs she didn't know. She knew she shouldn't have taken the second lot of pills but it had been five am and the pain just wouldn't go away…

House returned to the bathroom. Chloe was still sitting wedged between the basin and glass screen. He thought briefly of putting her under the shower to bring down her temperature, but decided that would make it harder to move her when the paramedics arrived.

"Come on, we need to get you out of here." House grabbed her arm, planning to move her out to the lounge where it would be easier to get her on to a stretcher. His hands slipped against her dead weight.

"Chloe, you have to help me here," he said irritably. This was the bit of doctoring he always did his best to avoid in the hospital – dealing directly with sick people. Being forced to do it in his own home made it no more pleasant.

Chloe nodded. She still couldn't think very clearly, but understood he wanted her to stand up and walk. She managed to haul herself up, the pain of it making her head spin.

House wrapped an arm around her waist and balanced himself against the wall. Moving slowly and awkwardly he managed to get them both out of the bathroom and into the corridor.

In the lounge he set her on the floor, sliding her down against the back of the sofa before returning to the bathroom. There, he grabbed two towels and wet them under cold water, wringing them out hastily. Limping as fast as he could, he returned to the lounge and wrapped one towel around Chloe's wrists and put the other around her neck. She shuddered at the icy wetness, but pressed her hot face against the cold of the towel.

"Sorry… I didn't want… bother…" she murmured.

When House noticed the smear of blood on her foot his first thought was that she must have cut it somehow – maybe on last night's broken coffee cup. Then he saw that it came from a dark-red rivulet running down her leg.

Feeling for the pulse in her neck, he found the tachycardia he'd expected. He didn't need a whiteboard to start forming a theory about what was wrong with her.

And what had probably caused it.

If twenty-plus years of medical practice hadn't already taught him that sex was trouble with a capital 'S' he needed no further proof. He sent a short, ridiculous prayer to a higher power he didn't believe in, asking for the paramedics to hurry.


	11. Chapter 11

When the paramedics lifted Chloe from the stretcher to the ER gurney, House was in full dictator mode. It was a marked comparison to the last time they'd been to the ER when she'd been pregnant, a time when he'd shrunk back, let others take the lead, somehow shocked into inaction by the situation he'd found himself in.

"Get Wright on the phone and tell him we need an OR," House commanded a nurse. "Bring cooling blankets, refrigerated saline, a mobile ultrasound and have a crash cart on standby," he called out to others as he checked the readouts of the various machines she'd already been connected to.

The ER crew, used to command-and-control operation, bustled around efficiently carrying out his orders.

A nurse called out from a phone on the wall.

"Wright says he'll organise an OR and to get her there as soon as she's stable. He's on his way."

"Well, let's get moving, people," House directed. "Let me talk to him." He grabbed the phone from the nurse and spoke into it rapidly for a few moments, giving Wright a heads up on the symptoms and his proposed diagnosis, before hanging up abruptly before the other doctor even had a chance to speak.

"She's tachycardic and hypovolemic," a junior ER doctor interjected, as soon as House put down the phone. "Her temp's almost 105. That's not stable. And we still haven't locked down the source of this bleeding."

A nurse had just finished setting up the ultrasound and handed House the probe as she turned to apply the conductor gel. He moved it expertly across Chloe's abdomen, peering intently at the screen, blocking out the noises and conversations going on around him.

"We have now," House announced, pointing at the screen. He'd found exactly what he'd expected. "And it's not going to get any better until they get this thing that's poisoning her out. So unless you want to turn this part of your ER into an OR, I suggest you get things moving."

The ER doctor looked at the screen and grimaced at what he saw. Despite the severity of her condition he knew there were things that needed to be checked before she was moved to surgery.

"We need to do bloods and a pregnancy test first, though."

"Take your bloods, but she's not pregnant," House said coldly.

"Look, Dr House, you know as well as I do that almost twenty per cent of cases like this are related to pregnancy. It might be too early to show up on the sonogram. It's just a precaution, the surgeons need to know."

"She's _not_ pregnant," House repeated fiercely.

"OK, OK," the junior doctor said, a little scared by House's intimidation. "I guess we can let her go. Draw some blood first so we can do the usual round of tests and do a cross-match so we can send up some units to the OR for transfusion. And put up another bag of cold saline to see what we can do about that temp."

House watched the junior doctor scribble on her admittance file. "Make a note for the anaesthetist that she's had eighty milligrams of Percocet in the last eight hours – possibly more," he demanded.

The ER intern glanced up to check he'd heard correctly. No responsible doctor would let someone take that high a dose in such a short period of time.

"She was in pain." House said bluntly, staring down the intern's look, not feeling any need to justify anything further to a junior doctor. Of course he hadn't advised her to take that much, but let him think what he liked.

The ER crew packed all the portable equipment into the bed, preparing to transport her to the OR.

As if time had suddenly stopped, House stepped back, knowing he'd remember the moment in freeze-frame for the rest of his life. His t-shirt, one with a skull on it that he was quite fond of, was lying on the floor with bloody patches on it. They might have washed out, but the fact that it had been cut into pieces to remove it from Chloe's body meant that it was beyond saving. Her like-wise dissected underwear was in a small pile next to it. She was lying very still, surrounded by medical equipment and personnel, her face flushed and sweaty, hair plastered around her cheeks and forehead. And she was naked. He knew she'd have hated that.

One of the nurses pulled a small, rectangular cooling blanket across her belly, breaking House out of his momentary spell.

"Can you…" House said waving an arm over her body, his previous confidence suddenly gone, now not quite sure how to verbalise what he wanted.

The ER doctor took a look at House's face, suddenly understanding that there was more going on here than he'd thought. Until then, it hadn't occurred to him that the patient could be connected to House in any way other than as a patient and, with that realisation, he understood instantly what the older man was trying to communicate. He grabbed a sheet from a nearby shelf and handed one end to a nurse on the opposite side of the bed. They quickly pulled it over Chloe's body up to her chin.

"Let's go," he said, pulling up the sides of the bed and pushing it out into the corridor.

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Cuddy was waiting in the surgical suite when they emerged from the elevator, House following slowly behind the gurney and its accompanying crew. He stopped as they reached the OR swing doors, watching as the bed disappeared into the sterile white cavern of rooms.

He didn't notice Cuddy until she was standing at his elbow. When he recognised her, he smiled a little. It was somehow fitting that she was there.

"So?" she asked, desperate to know what was going on. She had only found out that Chloe had been brought into the ER by chance, having been in a board meeting with Dr Wright when he was paged.

"I'm going up to observe," House said, leaving it open for her to follow.

In the observation deck, House didn't take his eyes off the surgery that was about to commence below as he recited his diagnosis of Chloe's condition to Cuddy.

"She's tachycardic, hypovolemic and has a temp of 105. I think she has a torsioned ovary that's necrotised and now she has septicemia. If they can get rid of the infected tissue and get her temp down she might just avoid septic shock. But if not, then… well…" he trailed off for a moment. "…And then it's still possible that the mass that caused all this is malignant."

Cuddy took a deep breath as she took in the grim set of his face. If House was right, and she had to admit he usually was, things were not good. If Chloe's ovary had been twisted and the blood supply cut off, the bacteria feeding on the dying tissue would be flooding her system causing blood poisoning. If that progressed to septic shock, well, her chances were fifty-fifty at best, doing untold damage to all her major organs along the way. That was all without the prospect of cancer.

"She must have been in extraordinary pain, House," Cuddy sighed. "Were you with her?"

"Yes, but…" he sighed. "She was eating pain pills like candy. That masked things." He didn't want to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, that he'd been with her for the whole night without noticing how ill she was. _If only he hadn't gone to sleep on the couch._ In bed with her he was sure he would have felt her fever and could have got her to the hospital hours earlier – perhaps in time to prevent the infection taking hold.

"Dr House," Wright's voice echoed from the speaker above their heads. He hadn't looked up at them, it was obvious he had just assumed House would be there.

"It's an ovarian torsion as you suspected. The mass on the ovary has merged with an adhesion from the previous surgery. It wouldn't have taken much in the way of movement to cause the ovarian pedicle to twist and create the infarction. There is severe necrosis. I can try to save it, but I'm not sure whether the result would be worthwhile."

House felt his stomach churn, knowing what was coming next.

"What do you want me to do?"

House's mind raced. He wasn't her medical proxy – there was no arrangement in place that made him responsible for her medical decisions. But it was logical that Wright would ask him. And there was no time. No time to call her family and explain the situation. He felt sick.

"House," Cuddy said, warningly. "Surely you're not thinking that there's any decision here."

House swallowed and took a deep breath. He leant forward as if to speak into the intercom, but halted halfway. He wasn't familiar with indecision and he was rapidly becoming aware that it wasn't something he liked.

"House, there's no decision," Cuddy said quietly, wondering why Wright had even asked. It was clear that there was no good medical reason to do anything other than remove it.

"There's no point trying to save the ovary," Cuddy said, as calmly as she could – the parallels were unsettling her as well. "The risk of the infection getting worse is too great. It's not like this is muscle, House. She will be healthy again afterwards."

House bristled at the reference but leant forward.

"Remove it," he said, more firmly than he felt.

"OK," Wright's voice answered.

"It must have happened a couple of days ago for it to be this bad," Cuddy observed.

"Friday night or Saturday morning, I'm pretty sure," House said under his breath.

Cuddy gave him a puzzled look, wondering how he could pin down the exact moment it had happened. It could have been caused by any kind of physical exertion… Then she shook her head as it clicked into place: he'd definitely know about any physical activity Chloe had been involved with if he'd been with her at the time – if he'd been part of it.

House and Cuddy sat in silence for a few minutes, both lost in private thoughts, until the speaker crackled to life with Wright's voice again.

"The ovary is out. The adhesions are worse than the scans indicated, so I'm pretty sure that's the cause of her chronic pain before this happened. I'm flooding her with antibiotics and steroids. The good news is that she's no longer tachycardic and the hypotension has improved with the IV fluids. Her temperature is down to…" his voiced faded out a little as he appeared to consult with the anaesthetist, "…well, only down to 103.5, but at least that's in the right direction."

House leaned forward, his hand reaching for the intercom button again. He paused just as Wright's voice filled the room again.

"Nurse, can we have another cooling blanket please."

House leant back; that had been exactly what he was going to ask for.

"I'll come back to you again shortly." The intercom clicked off.

"Chronic pain?" Cuddy asked after a moment.

"That's why she was here in the first place. To get a consult from Wright. She wasn't even planning to see me." His tone was deceptively casual.

Cuddy looked at him with narrowed eyes, but decided to not to ask more. They sat quietly while the surgery continued.

After a few minutes Wright's voice once again crackled over the intercom.

"I've removed the mass. It looks like a cyst to me, but I'm just getting one of the residents here to check it under the microscope for malignancy. I'll let you know as soon as we find out – in the meantime, I'll attend to some of the more serious adhesions to help her chronic pain then I'll close up." The intercom clicked off again.

Cuddy turned and gave him a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure everything is going to be all right," she said.

House heard the echo of his own words to Chloe not even twelve hours earlier and couldn't help sneering at her optimism.

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**A/N: **Medical footnote – this type of problem doesn't usually get as advanced as this because we've all seen how painful an infarction is :-( and people usually get treatment before it would get to the infection stage. Sometimes treatment can be delayed because it is misdiagnosed as food poisoning – stomach pain and vomiting are key symptoms – but we know House wouldn't get something like that wrong. So poor Chloe has been downing those tablets to kill the pain not just because she's stubborn but also so I could make her really, really sick. The timeline (i.e. House suspecting it happened Friday/Saturday through to hospitalisation on Monday) is my invention and apologies if it's wildly incorrect – it's my mistake not House's. But it served my plot. ;-)


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Just a quick note to say thanks to everyone who's been reviewing - especially those of you who leave reviews each time you read! Writing is rewarding in and of itself (otherwise why would we do it?) but reviews are like delicious cream-cheese frosting on the top of a very nice cake - sure, the cake is nice without it, but it's only _really special_ with. Ah. St V's Day is obviously making me soppy. But you know what I mean. Ta muchly.

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Wilson walked into House's office just as House was putting down the phone and returning his wallet to his pocket.

"Do you know how expensive flowers are?" House grumbled to his friend.

"For Chloe?" Wilson asked, surprised.

House nodded, hoping Wilson wouldn't comment. Ordering them was just something to do to fill in the time and stop him having to think about anything else.

"How is she?"

"In recovery. They're going to page me when she's moved to ICU."

"I thought you might need a coffee." House gratefully accepted the proffered cup as Wilson settled into the chair opposite his desk.

"So, it wasn't malignant. That must be a relief." Wilson had caught an update from Cuddy while he was buying the coffees. The fact that the biopsy had cleared her of having cancer was really the one bright side to everything that had happened and so Wilson had decided to try to focus on that. He decided not to mention the decision House had been forced to make about removing Chloe's ovary until House was ready to discuss it.

House nodded. "Yeah, the surgery seemed to go ok, but she's comatose. Although that's probably not a bad thing while they try to get the infection under control."

"So not out of the woods yet then." Wilson sighed for his friend.

"Not yet. Also too early to know if there was any damage to any other organs. She came so close to MODS…" House trailed off, referring to the fatal multiple organ failure that often progressed from the kind of severe blood poisoning Chloe had suffered.

"But that didn't happen, so there's reason to be positive," Wilson encouraged.

House didn't reply. They sat quietly for a moment, sipping their coffees.

"You know, I'm beginning to think there's a lesson in this for me." House broke the silence.

Wilson looked at House, unused to hearing introspection from his friend and fascinated to know what he thought he had learned.

"What's that?"

"I should never have sex again."

Wilson snorted – he should have known it was too good to be true. "What?"

"It's a message from a higher power. Sex causes trouble. Sometimes death."

"Well, I can understand the pregnancy bit, but I think you're pushing it on this one."

"Nah, I don't think so. I think our last round of horizontal tango caused the torsion."

"Oh," Wilson fell silent, not sure what to say. It was a plausible explanation and it made the decision House had had to make somehow more poignant.

"Why couldn't I have just got a dose of the clap instead?" House pleaded to the ceiling.

Before Wilson could reply, House's pager sounded. He unclipped it from his belt and quickly scanned the message.

"Everything OK?" Wilson asked.

"Yeah, they've moved her to ICU." He sat, not moving for a moment. Then he reached for his coffee, downing what was left and setting the cup back on the desk with a trembling hand. He realised the anxiety and stress of the morning was catching up with him. For the first time in a very long time he felt almost like he might cry. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, trying to cover up the unsettling emotions from the other man. The lump in his throat made swallowing painful.

He stared over Wilson's shoulder for a few more moments until finally he felt ready to speak.

"I guess I should go visit her." His voice betrayed only the slightest tremble.

Wilson picked up House's anxiety and how desperately he was trying to hide it. He smiled sympathetically.

"Want some company?"

House hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great."

---------------------------------------------------

House had seen more patients in intensive care than he could count. The number of machines, tubes and readouts the person was hooked up to were often overwhelming to their families. It was something he knew clinically but had never really appreciated… until now.

Wilson stood back, letting House move close to Chloe, giving them a small moment of privacy. He watched as House bent over her, one finger reaching out, as if against his will, to stroke a lock of her hair back from her temple.

Wilson raised his eyebrows in surprise at the uncharacteristic display of affection. He moved over to House and put a hand on his shoulder to comfort his friend.

"I'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to say.

House stood up abruptly and cleared his throat – Wilson wasn't sure if he was coughing away tears or was just embarrassed at being caught out in a tender moment.

House shrugged Wilson's hand off his shoulder and turned to the end of the bed to review Chloe's chart.

"She's not going to be waking up anytime soon," he stated, his voice returning to normal now that he was back on familiar medical ground. He went and sat down on a chair next to her bed.

"It's going to be a long day. You might want to get us some provisions," he hinted, settling into the chair. "Some lunch and some M&Ms would be good."

Wilson looked at his watch. He figured he could hang around for a while – most of his morning had been set aside for a biopsy with Chloe anyway. If House was keeping watch over Chloe then he could keep watch over House. He gave a long-suffering sigh and headed for the cafeteria.

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An hour later one of the ICU nurses was completing her obs while House was seemingly engrossed in the PSP Wilson had brought it in for him when he'd got lunch. The nurse made a note on the chart about Chloe's fluid balance and moved to put it back on the end of the bed when House put up his cane to block her way.

"Let me see that," he demanded without looking up, one hand out, the other still blasting alien spaceships.

Reluctantly she handed across the chart, standing with her hands on her hips.

"Everything is as you would expect. And Dr Wright is her attending, I don't think…"

House paused his game and viewed the chart for just seconds before interrupting the irritated nurse.

"Her kidneys are failing."

Wilson looked up from the journal he was reading.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Oh, no, wait," House replied sarcastically, a finger against his cheek in mock thought. "Was that _neph_rology or _ast_rology I studied? Of course I'm sure, you idiot."

Wilson didn't react to the slur.

"The antibiotics? Acute interstitial nephritis?" he asked.

"Probably."

"But it's too soon to stop the antibiotics. The infection isn't cleared yet."

"I know. We'll have to try something less targeted. And hemodialysis to protect the kidneys."

House began to order new meds and portable dialysis from the ICU nurse. She stood her ground, trying to pull the chart out of House's hands, arguing that she couldn't see anything wrong and she wouldn't do anything without the attending doctor's sign off anyway.

Wilson interrupted before things could get nasty.

"Why don't you page Dr Wright and ask him to come for a consult," Wilson said patiently. "I'm sure he'll want to know about this."

The nurse snarled at House, but left him with the chart and went to make the call.

Wright appeared about fifteen minutes later, initially annoyed at being called in at House's request. He wanted to find a way to show House that he wasn't at his beck and call, but as he listened as House went through the diagnosis, he had to admit that although the guy might be five kinds of annoying, this time he was right.

"Yeah, OK," he said gravely. "I'm ordering new meds and dialysis. I'll go speak to the nursing staff right away."

Wright looked up at House from his notes.

"She's lucky you were looking out for her – otherwise this wouldn't have been picked up for another couple of hours. You've probably saved her kidneys."

House was taken aback by the unexpected compliment.

"Uh, sure," he said quietly, reluctant to admit his appreciation of praise that for once wasn't qualified with a 'but' about his methods. He was also relieved that he'd done something to contribute to Chloe's health, rather than sickness. It was a feeling he didn't want to analyse too closely.

He returned to his seat and picked up the discarded PSP, taking up his game where he'd left off, deciding that trying to better his current top score would be a great way to distract himself.

Wright gave Wilson a puzzled look as he watched House return to his computer game.

Wilson just shrugged a _don't ask_ and went back to his reading.

---------------------------------------------------

After the kidney scare, Wilson cancelled his afternoon appointments to stay with House through the afternoon, wordlessly trying to provide support for his vigil and trying to keep the peace between House and the ICU nursing staff.

At seven in the evening he tried to convince House to go home and rest, but House just stubbornly shook his head and leant back further in the chair. Wilson sighed and told him he'd see him in the morning.

An hour later, House stood and stretched. He'd been dozing in the chair, but it wasn't doing his leg any favours. The constant noise of the respirator, dialysis machine and other medical equipment – not to mention the nurses coming and going for half-hourly obs – also wasn't conducive to sleep. He was exhausted from the stress of the day and the lack of sleep the previous night.

After leaving strict instructions with the nursing staff to contact him if there was any change, he returned to his office to sleep, stopping via the lobby shop to buy a sandwich he'd quickly devoured despite its stale taste.

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_Tuesday_

House was woken by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Cuddy normally arrived at the hospital early and she'd gone straight to check on Chloe. When she hadn't found House in Chloe's room she'd instinctively headed for his office, hoping she'd find him there. For ridiculously romantic reasons she didn't fully understand, she wanted him not to have gone home. Of course she told herself it was silly, Chloe was in a coma and didn't know whether he was next to her or not, but Cuddy was touched and relieved in equal measure when she found him napping on the recliner chair in his office, a cotton hospital blanket pulled up to his chin.

"What?" House asked, startled to be wakened suddenly. He sat up straight. "What's wrong?" His first instinct was to assume Cuddy was there to give him bad news.

"She's doing much better," Cuddy reassured, her voice soft. "Her temp's down under 100 now, there's no hypoperfusion, and her white count is down, so there's no danger of septic shock. It also looks like her kidney function is returning to normal."

Relieved, House sank back into the chair, groaning as he registered the stiffness in his muscles and the throbbing hurt from his leg. He stretched and reached for the Vicoden lying on the floor next to him, popping two pills before he spoke again.

"That's… good…" he said. He rubbed his face with both hands, wanting to hide his expression from Cuddy. The lump in his throat that had threatened tears the previous day returned and he coughed and rose from the chair to cover it.

"Yes, it's really good," Cuddy replied. "It means the steroids and the new antibiotics are working and the dialysis did the trick. If she regains consciousness soon, chances are she'll make a full recovery."

"_If_ she doesn't have brain damage from the fever and _if_ you count half her reproductive system missing as fully recovered," he said with a bitter tone that surprised them both. He paced around the office, trying to stretch out his bad leg.

Cuddy started but then recovered, aware of the reason for his tone.

"House, this isn't your fault," she said gently. "It could have been any kind of activity that caused the torsion – not necessarily sex."

House gave her a surprised but guarded look, wondering how she'd deduced that, wondering if Wilson had told her.

"Even if that was it – it's still not your fault. And you had no choice during the surgery. If it was me on the table, I would have wanted you to make the same decision."

"Yeah, well if it's not my fault, how come I feel so God-damned guilty?" he asked angrily, realising that he shouldn't be having this conversation with Cuddy – his boss – but unable to help it.

"I think you'll find that it's not guilt, it's concern," Cuddy explained patiently, keeping her voice low. "You're worried about her, you want her to get well. It's a terrible feeling when someone you love is seriously ill. It's natural to want to find someone to blame for it, even yourself."

House thought for a moment, considering her advice. He knew himself well enough to know that guilt was guilt, and that was exactly what he felt. Half of him wanted to cut her down with a biting remark about platitudes being best saved for patient's families. But then he realised that was what he was – Chloe's _family_. Was that it? Did he love Chloe like that?

He thought about how he'd felt when he'd seen her walk through the hospital lobby – _God, was that only last week?_ He'd been irrational, impulsive and obsessed with seeing her. Other images went through his mind – sitting opposite her eating dinner, making love to her, arguing with her. He snorted at the ludicrous romantic montage his own brain was creating.

Cuddy watched him pace, watched him think, knowing that it was wise not to say anything further.

"Do you want to freshen up before you go back to see her?" she asked after a while.

House nodded. "Probably a good idea not to try to wake her with just my overpowering stench."

Cuddy smiled at the weak joke.

"I can go sit with her a while until you're ready," she offered.

House nodded curtly. "Thanks."


	13. Chapter 13

House grabbed a clean t-shirt and assorted toiletries he kept in the bottom draw of his desk. In the doctor's lounge he had a brief shower, changed clothes and cleaned his teeth. He wasn't looking forward to another day of sitting next to Chloe's bed, but the cleansing fortified him a little.

When he reached the ICU he saw through the glass walls that Cuddy was sitting next to Chloe, holding her hand and talking to her, even though Chloe was still clearly unconscious, the respirator still in place. When Cuddy caught sight of House she stopped speaking abruptly and smiled guiltily.

"What were you two gossiping about?" House asked when he entered the room.

"I was just telling Chloe about the beautiful orchids someone sent to her," Cuddy replied with a knowing smile, gesturing to a small but delicate floral arrangement opposite Chloe's bed. Seeing House's face flush slightly, she changed the subject.

"She looks better, the colour in her face is more normal."

House nodded in agreement as he looked at the sleeping woman; her face had lost its feverish sheen. He realised she must have been given a bath at some point in the night because her hair was now dry and combed straight, a marked contrast to the matted, sweaty curls he'd brushed from her face when she'd first entered the ICU.

Cuddy rose and House took her place in the chair by the bed, opening the drawer in the bedside unit next to him to reveal a range of entertainment options – PSP, portable TV, soduko puzzle book, a few medical journals and a variety of candy and chip packets – that he'd had Wilson bring to him throughout the previous day.

"Tell Wilson I want a double espresso and one of those pastries with chocolate in the middle. And a pack of M&Ms, I'm almost all out." He leant back in the chair and lifted his right leg to cross his feet up on the bed next to Chloe.

"Comfortable?" Cuddy asked sarcastically, raising her eyebrows.

"Come on Cuddy, I know you're secretly jonsed by the fact that I'm here, that I'm doing the bedside thing," he said perceptively. "You're so excited that I might actually be human, you haven't even mentioned my missed clinic duty or the fact that I didn't so much as speak to my team yesterday."

Cuddy narrowed her eyes, wondering how yet again he managed to get under her skin by pointing out something she was only barely conscious of herself.

"No, but that's because you are officially on carer's leave," she sniped. "That comes off your annual leave, by the way." She loved the small satisfaction she was able to gain by trumping him administratively.

"And you can give Wilson your breakfast order yourself," she said, spying him walking across from the elevator. She turned on heel and walked out, her scowl tweaking up slightly as she saw the orchids again. He was right – it was terrible that Chloe was sick, but she was secretly thrilled that House seemed to have found a spark of humanity. She wondered briefly what Stacey might have said about everything that had happened. Knowing Stacey's cold rationality no doubt she'd just say 'karma'. Cuddy liked to think there was much more to it than that.

House growled at her. "Hey, what if I was saving that annual leave for a honeymoon? That'd make me more human that you could stand…"

Cuddy just shook her head and kept walking. _He always had to take things one step too far…_

"He's all yours," she muttered to Wilson as they passed.

"Gee, thanks," Wilson replied with a sigh.

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House sat back, feeling a little more like his normal self. Scoring points against Cuddy – even if it did mean admitting out loud that he was playing the part of the patient's family – always cheered him up slightly. Whatever, it was it was a great improvement on the weird extremes of emotion he'd been going through since yesterday.

He decided to try to hang on to his restored normalcy by getting stuck into Wilson who had brought him an apricot Danish instead of the chocolate pastry he'd wanted.

"Did you stay all night?" Wilson asked, ignoring the demands he return with better breakfast.

"In my office," House replied, giving up and eating the Danish.

"So, how's she doing?"

House gave a quick update.

Wilson smiled at the news. "That's really great. I've got patients this morning, but I'll come by at lunch," Wilson said. "Would you like to place your lunch order now?"

House grinned. "The usual."

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Although he'd started the day feeling better, House spent the morning growing more and more bored and irritable. He had previously thought that being able to watch daytime television and play computer games without needing to sneak around would be a dream come true. But he quickly realised that what made it fun was its illicitness – now that he had permission to do it, it wasn't nearly as enjoyable.

He tried having a conversation with Chloe, asking her about all the things he hadn't gotten a chance to know about her yet: first album she'd bought, childhood pets, favourite movie, guessing what her answers would be. The fact that she didn't answer back made the game unsatisfying very quickly.

But the questions got him thinking about her, about the woman that he had somehow been thrown together with over the past year. Much of what had happened to them was outside their control. He wondered what might have happened if things had been different. In the early months of their relationship, before the pregnancy, he had been thinking that maybe – just maybe – it was time to sail out into those waters again. To take the good ship Greg House out of dry dock and see if it could withstand the rough waters of the relationship ocean. He thought Chloe might just be the right one to do it with. But then everything had changed. And now where were they? He honestly didn't know.

House was desperate to get out of his own head by the time Wilson came by with a Rueben, French fries and a Coke for him for lunch.

"What have you been doing all morning?" Wilson asked, immediately sensing that House was in a dark mood. "How's General Hospital?"

"Not on til this afternoon," House muttered through a mouthful of bread.

"Right. So have you beaten your best score on Crash Bandicoot?" he asked, trying to keep things light.

"Twice."

"Soduko?"

"Boring."

"So how have you been entertaining yourself? Please don't say you've been hassling the nurses," Wilson said warningly.

House started on the fries.

"Been talking with Chloe," he said, through a mouthful.

"Really?" Wilson checked the monitors.

"Kind of a one-sided conversation," House explained.

"Oh." Wilson wasn't sure whether or not to ask, but decided to risk it. "What have you been talking about?"

"Oh, you know, this and that. Religion, the situation in Iraq, how we each lost our virginity… stuff like that."

Wilson could see that House was hedging around something. He decided to stay silent to see if that would coax House to continue.

Finally House sighed.

"If only she'd let me know what was going on, talked to me about her pain. It's so hard to care about someone and not have them trust you with that. Every time I asked how she was feeling she'd get defensive."

Wilson almost choked in disbelief at what he was hearing.

House looked at him, misinterpreting his reaction as criticism. "What, you don't think I could have handled it?"

"No, I just thought you were quoting me the missing verse from that Alanis Morissette song, _Ironic_."

House narrowed his eyes threateningly at his friend. "Don't get all 'psychobabble' on me, James Wilson," he warned. "It's two very different situations. At least I'm consistent. She spends half her time telling me she wants me around and then these walls come up and she refuses to let me help…"

"Whereas you have your walls installed and fortified twenty-four-seven," Wilson pointed out.

House shook his head. "This isn't about me."

"Of course it's about you!" Wilson was exasperated.

"House, you – of all people – should not need me to tell you this. But I will anyway." He took a deep breath. "Here's how I see it. Chloe's not used to sharing her life – or her health – with someone else. I think she probably finds it difficult to ask for help and doesn't want to seem needy. I might also guess that if she had any brains at all – and that's doubtful seeing as she seems to care so much about you – she'd be nervous about relying on you. Let's face it: you're not especially reliable."

House recalled Chloe's panicked look when he'd been late to the appointment with Wright. He'd put it down to anxiety about the test results. But maybe she'd been worried about whether or not he'd show up.

"No, I'm not reliable and I never said I was," he admitted.

"I think she knows that House. That's why it's scary and why she's tried to control the role you've been playing in everything. From what you've told me and what I've seen, I'd say she's independent, self-contained and possibly a little bit stubborn.

"If it counts for anything, I think you two are a perfect match."

House sat back in the chair, shoving more fries in his mouth, musing over his friend's advice.

----------------------------------------------------------

Chloe felt as if she had been listening to out-of-tune radio for so long that she had stopped hearing the white noise. It wasn't until someone, somewhere, adjusted the dial ever so slightly, that she realised there was noise, and that it was voices she was listening to. Suddenly she could hear a conversation: she couldn't make sense of it, but she could definitely hear it.

The first voice she didn't recognise. But the second, deeper voice, resonated within her somehow. It made her feel safe, knowing that voice was nearby.

Then the radio went out of tune again and she slept.

The next time Chloe became aware of the voices, she tried to rouse herself from her confusion. Trying to clear her thoughts was like wading through a muddy pool – things kept sucking at her feet, holding her back – and it was exhausting and scary.

One of the voices she still couldn't recognise although it was vaguely familiar. She decided to ignore that one for the moment and focus on the warm, deep tones that made her feel safe. Using the voice like a lifeline, she followed it, tracing it back through her memories until it brought her to shore.

Greg. It was Greg's voice, and he was close, and he made her feel safe. Her confused fear abated and she relaxed a little.

Once she identified House, she became reasonably sure the other voice was Dr Wilson's.

She tried to piece together what they were saying and work out why it was so difficult to understand them, but her thoughts were jumbled and refused her demands to stay straight. She was also distracted by the effort of trying to breathe – it was almost as if she was drowning, but in air instead of water. Now someone was telling her to do things. She wasn't sure why, but she did what she was told.

Suddenly it occurred to her that the easiest way to make sense of everything would be to open her eyes. She wondered why it had taken her that long to think of it.

For what felt like long minutes, she worked very hard to make her eyelids rise. The effort was excruciating, exhausting. Eventually she decided to rest and try again later.

----------------------------------------------

"I think she's regaining consciousness, House," Wilson said as his eyes moved away from watching House finish lunch. Standing facing Chloe's bed, he had a clear view of the monitors.

House rose quickly to check the EEG readouts and shine a torch into her eyes. Chloe flinched slightly from the light and House nodded to himself. He watched as her eyelids fluttered and she coughed, trying to lift her head up from the bed.

"Yeah, normal beta wave patterns." He let out a breath.

A nurse entered the room, responding to an alarm prompted by Chloe's coughing, a choking sound from her struggle against the ventilator that had been helping her breathe.

"Doctor, can you extubate her? Or do you want me to call someone?" the nurse asked House.

"What, you mean we can do something without asking Wright?" House asked sarcastically. When he got no reply he sighed. "Wilson, you do it."

Wilson looked puzzled for a moment and then agreed with a shrug.

"Chloe," Wilson called to her. There was no obvious recognition from her, but her strangled breathing continued.

"Chloe, you are on a ventilator. It's breathing for you. I'm going to remove it. I just need to you cough really hard for me on three. Ready? One, two, three…"

Chloe coughed on demand and Wilson pulled the tube from her throat. The nurse placed an oxygen mask over Chloe's face and checked the oxygen saturation in her blood. The readings were stable, but while Chloe's eyes fluttered again for a while, she didn't regain consciousness.

"She's asleep," the nurse commented, making a notation on the chart before leaving the room.

"She looks like she's smiling," Wilson observed, lowering his voice.

"Good dreams, I guess," House murmured as he looked at her. She did look a little like she was smiling. At least he thought she looked calmer. "We still don't know how much that fever cooked her brain."

Wilson tried to give his friend a positive smile. While it was good that she'd started breathing on her own relatively soon after the surgery, it wasn't a great sign that she hadn't shown any alertness and had fallen asleep again immediately. "I'm sure everything will be fine."

House sneered, wishing he'd never said similar words to Chloe, especially now that he knew how stupid they were to hear.

He watched her with a new level of attention over the next few hours, knowing that patients recovering from a coma initially experienced fairly short periods of consciousness until they recovered their strength. But it wasn't until Wilson returned at the end of the day that Chloe stirred again. They were discussing one of Wilson's current cases when they both saw Chloe's eyes flicker.

Wilson stood back, waiting for House to greet Chloe, or at least to ask the usual brain function questions of a newly conscious patient. House stood, looking at Chloe with what Wilson could only interpret as puzzlement, but made no move to step forward.

In the face of House's inactivity, Wilson moved over to Chloe, stepping within her field of vision as her eyes blinked, unused to the light. He reached over and switched off the harsh overhead lamp to make it easier on her eyes.

"Chloe, it's James Wilson, do you remember me?" he leant over her and pulled up her eyelids, shining the torch as quickly as possible to check her pupil response.

"Chloe, can you hear me?"

"Do…" she coughed a little. "Do I have cancer?" she asked, her voice rough and throaty from the intubation.

Wilson let out a breath. Initially, at least, her brain function seemed fine. The question indicated she not only remembered him, but remembered why she had met him.

"No, you don't have cancer, but you did have surgery. Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital." Chloe couldn't really see very much around her, but she figured if she was lying in bed and Dr Wilson was asking these questions there couldn't be too many other options. Her throat hurt and every word was a struggle, but it was still better than the murky depths she'd been mired in.

"Do you know what day of the week it is?"

"No. Maybe Monday?"

"It's Tuesday evening now – you've been unconscious for a day and a half. Who's the President?"

"Stupid Bush."

Wilson grinned a little. "If you can make jokes then you must be OK." He looked over questioningly at House who still hadn't moved.

House wasn't sure what was happening to his mind, but it felt like he was a computer that had been asked to do too many things at once and everything had crashed. He shook his head to try and re-boot, suddenly aware of the release of a huge amount anxiety and stress he'd been carrying but refusing to acknowledge. The lack of its weight holding him down made him feel light-headed and untethered.

Chloe's eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting in the room and she could now clearly see Wilson. She turned her head slightly – the effort it took was astounding – and saw House standing next to her bed. He looked tired, and she could read stress, relief and confusion in his eyes all at once.

"Greg," she said, her breath catching on a sob as she felt a wave of emotion overcome her at seeing him – at knowing he was there for her.

Chloe's voice calling his name seemed to shake House out of his spell. He sat awkwardly on the bed next to her, not sure what else to do.

She smiled at him and fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" House asked. "This is good – you're awake and not brain damaged."

Wilson grimaced at House's attempt at a comforting bedside manner.

"I thought I was going to die," Chloe answered, whispering as her strength started to ebb. "And the worst thing about it was not seeing you again."

House told himself she was still medicated, that she probably didn't know what she was saying. But still he leant in close, kissing her cheek and then whispering in her ear so that Wilson couldn't hear.

"I'm here and I'm sorry."

----------------------------------------------------------

_Later_

Wilson had left for home a couple of hours previously and House's boredom had returned. For some reason he didn't feel as if he could leave yet, although he wasn't sure what he was waiting for. He knew Chloe would be drifting in and out, and that now she appeared to be out of danger it was a good chance for him to go home and rest. But still he found himself, restless and irritable, sitting in her room.

"Dr House, I need to change the linen on Chloe's bed, could you help me?"

The blonde nurse was young and attractive which was the only reason House didn't immediately reduce her to tears with his usual keenly observed personal abuse.

"Why would I want to do that?" he asked the nurse harshly instead of insulting her.

"Not with the bed linen, just with holding Chloe while I move her around. She might like a hug," the nurse coaxed. It was something she often suggested to the family of ICU patients when it was possible – it gave them a chance to participate in their care and also to touch their loved one which was something they often found difficult given all the medical equipment in the way. She'd heard that Dr House was prickly, but she figured he deserved the same treatment as any other patient's partner.

"If you just sit on the bed there, I'll sit Chloe up towards you. You'll just need to hold on to her while I change the pillow and the sheet at the top of the bed. Then we can lay her back down again and I can do the rest of the bed. It won't take very long."

House looked at her suspiciously. Chloe was sleeping and he felt she should be left alone.

"Can't you do this later? She's sleeping."

"It won't take very long and she'll feel much better afterwards," the nurse continued, cheerfully.

House grumbled, but got up and sat on the bed as he had been instructed.

The nurse gently shook Chloe awake.

"Chloe? We're just changing the bed for you. I need to you sit up a bit for me." She wrapped an arm under Chloe's elbow and shoulder, preparing to hoist her into a sitting position.

"I know you're tired, but we'll be really quick. And Dr House is going to hold you for me. You just tell me if you experience any discomfort."

The nurse instructed House as she started to lift Chloe. "Dr House, she's going to be really weak, so you'll need to hold her up against you."

Chloe was still halfway between sleep and consciousness when she found herself sitting up and leaning across House's body, her head resting against his shoulder. He had one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders, his large hand cupping her head, holding her to him.

"Hello," she whispered sleepily, blinking up at him. Being held that way reminded her of when she was a little girl, being carried from the car to her bed by her father after she'd fallen asleep on a long drive. She felt safe and secure, but also a little silly because she knew she was an adult and should be able to sit up by herself.

"Sorry you have to…" she said slowly, the embarrassment starting to prevail as she became more awake.

"Will you just shut up and let me look after you for once?" House was exasperated by her dogged independence, but he kept his tone gentle.

Chloe didn't say anything, but she moved her arms, which had until then been hanging somewhat uselessly by her sides, and wrapped them as best she could around him. She closed her eyes again and just drank in his warmth, his smell, the feel of his heartbeat under her ear and his arms holding her close.

By the time he laid her back down she was almost asleep again and House had forgotten the nurse was in the room. He leaned over and kissed Chloe's forehead, feeling a closeness and intimacy with her that took him by surprise.

"Chloe?" House stroked a lock of hair back behind her ear, wanting to say something to her before she fell asleep.

Chloe nodded to let him know she heard and tried to focus on him with her tired eyes as best she could.

House looked at her, wondering what it was he wanted to say. No words came forth.

Chloe smiled weakly at him and her eyes drifted closed as the nurse finished tucking in the fresh sheets at the bottom of the bed.

House watched as Chloe fell back into sleep. He still hadn't said anything. Still didn't know what he wanted to say. He lifted one of her hands and kissed her knuckles lightly, then grabbed his cane and coat and headed for home.


	14. Chapter 14

_Wednesday morning_

Dr Wright greeted Chloe with a small smile. He'd been both looking forward to and dreading visiting her as part of his morning rounds; he was pleased that she was doing better, but reluctant to face House.

"Chloe, it's fantastic to see you awake," he said genuinely, noting that she was by herself.

Chloe smiled back wanly, a little anxious about what he might have to say and still not feeling fully conscious. She'd been awake for a short while, but her thinking was still fuzzy and even the tiniest movement took huge effort. She tried to explain.

"Would you… can you come back? I want… I mean, uh, can we wait? I want Greg…" Chloe ran out of puff. She'd meant to say she wanted Greg "to be here", but those three extra words seemed like too much effort. Besides, she just plain wanted Greg anyway.

"Sure," Wright nodded. It would have suited him better to debrief Chloe without House around, but he had to respect her wishes. "I've got someone else to see. I'll pop in there and come back when I'm done."

About ten minutes after Wright left, House arrived, two coffees carefully balanced one on top of the other, a paper bag clutched against his cane. Chloe smiled at the look of concentration on his face.

Once he'd set the cups safely down on the tray over her bed, he looked at her properly.

"So, you're awake," he said.

"So it would seem," she answered weakly, her voice still croaky. "For a little while."

"Well done. I wasn't sure if you'd feel up to it, but I thought I'd grab you a coffee. Latte with one, right?"

"Mmm, coffee." She gathered the energy to hoist herself up a little against the pillows. "Can only remember having water for ages."

"Sip it slowly," he advised, handing her the cup.

"Yes, doctor," she replied mockingly but with a smile.

In response he rolled his eyes and sat down in the chair next to her bed, pulling one of several donuts out of the paper bag and eating half in one bite.

"You seem quite chipper," House said suspiciously, noting her smile.

"Uh-huh," Chloe agreed. "Very tired, but…" She thought about how to explain how she was feeling. "Happy to be alive." She said it tentatively, knowing it was corny as hell and preparing herself for his derisive response.

House just looked her thoughtfully, his eyes examining her; she felt as if he could peer inside her mind. She broke away from his gaze and concentrated on taking a mouthful of coffee. She was thankful for the lid on the cup that allowed her to sip the hot drink slowly without her needing to be too precise about how she held the cup to her mouth. Her whole body was still not completely under her control and she wondered absently how the caffeine and milk would settle in her stomach.

"Did you sleep OK?" she asked, changing the subject.

House nodded, his mouth full of donut, then took a big gulp of coffee. He'd slept like a log for more than ten hours, but he still felt like crap and had had to drag himself out of bed.

"Didn't stir til nine, that's why I'm only here now." House didn't like the tone of defensiveness in his voice, but couldn't help it

"S'OK," Chloe tried to reassure him. She got the impression he felt he needed to apologise, but didn't want to. "Knew you'd come." It took Chloe conscious effort not to add '_this time'_.

"Not like I would be any company," Chloe added. "Slept except when they changed my dressing."

House nodded. Her comment reminded him that he hadn't checked her chart yet for last night's obs; he'd been concentrating on his breakfast when he'd walked in.

"How was it?" he asked, rising to grab the chart from the end of the bed and flick over the cover.

"Yucky." Chloe knew it was a childish answer, but she was trying hard to communicate using the minimum number of words to save her energy and, because her brain still wasn't firing on all cylinders, she was without the full breadth of her usual vocabulary. House didn't seem to notice.

He chewed the last of his donut and perused the notes. Everything seemed to be reasonably good and her wound was showing no sign of infection. He thought she could probably be moved from the ICU soon.

Wright walked back in the room just as House was replacing the chart on the bed.

"Everything in order, Dr House?" he asked with mock joviality, bristling at seeing the other doctor again in his turf.

"You tell me. You're the doctor here," House responded. His tone was sarcastic, but he sat back in the chair, effectively handing over to him.

Chloe watched the power play carefully and knew exactly how much it cost House to make the gesture. She knew he'd done it for her. _Perhaps old dogs could learn new tricks after all_, she mused.

Wright was a little taken aback at the easy win. Recovering quickly he checked the chart and then took a seat at the end of Chloe's bed.

"Chloe, do you know what's happened?"

Chloe shook her head slowly. "Not really. I know there was surgery. I don't have cancer. This is the first time I've been awake for longer than five minutes." She gave a little shrug.

Wright nodded.

"OK, well I'll start at the start. Your chronic pain was being caused by adhesions – that's like scar tissue – from the last surgery. While I was operating I was able to make some repairs that will hopefully make a difference to the pain you've been experiencing.

"What caused this latest issue was a combination of the adhesions and the mass we found. They started to grow together and that was pulling your ovary in the wrong direction. That caused what's known as an infarction, when the blood supply is cut off and body tissue dies. The reason you were feeling so sick and had a fever was that the dead tissue became infected and the bacteria got into your blood."

Chloe looked at House, confused. "Infarction?" She waved at him, pointing roughly at his leg, trying to save herself the effort of finding all the words required to ask the question.

House interpreted her movements and nodded slightly.

Chloe sighed and tried to put the still half-full coffee cup back on the tray table in front of her, but her hand shook with the effort. House unthinkingly leant forward and took it from her, placing it on the bedside cabinet.

She looked at him with surprise at the gesture, but then turned back to Wright nervously.

"You said tissue died. What d'you mean?" she asked.

Wright glanced at House, who kept his face deliberately blank and didn't return the look. Wright wondered how much he should tell her – was it necessary she learn that her lover had given the OK for him to remove the infected tissue?

"I'm sorry Chloe, the tissue of your ovary died, so we had to remove it – there wasn't any choice," Wright paused for a moment as he considered his own statement. There really hadn't been any choice, looking back on it. He knew that he probably wouldn't have stopped to ask for permission if the patient's partner had been anyone other than House and, knowing a little of House's history, he had to admit that part of him had done it deliberately to extract some revenge. He decided there was no need to punish her as well.

"I also had to remove all of what was left of your right fallopian tube because of the adhesions."

"A hysterectomy?" Chloe asked, taking a deep breath.

"No. But you will have problems conceiving in the future if you want to have children."

House watched as Chloe closed her eyes for a moment and he couldn't read her expression - he wasn't sure if she was relieved or upset. He felt a dark anxiety in the pit of his stomach and wondered why Wright had left out the bit where he'd asked for House's permission to take out the ovary. When Chloe opened her eyes again they were confused, but not distressed.

"Don't think I understand properly – this was all… over the last seven months?"

"No, the last few months' pain have been because of the adhesions. The torsion – what happened to your ovary – only happened in the last few days. Because it was already being pulled in the wrong direction, it would only have taken something like vigorous exercise or even just lifting something heavy to create enough stress for the ovary to twist completely and cut off the blood supply."

"Wish I hadn't gone swimming," Chloe said darkly.

"What swimming?" House asked loudly, surprised into speaking.

Chloe frowned, trying to remember which day it was. "Friday – was it Friday I met Dr Wilson?"

House nodded.

"OK. When I got back to the hotel… I went swimming to take my mind off everything. Did about twenty laps – tumble at each end of the pool really hurt, but I didn't think it was anything new."

House shook his head and looked up at the ceiling.

"She went swimming," he said, in a disbelieving tone, to no one in particular. If it had happened when she went swimming it could explain why the sex had been so painful for her: it meant one less thing for him to be responsible for, and it was a relief.

"How was I supposed know?" Chloe protested, finding some energy for her defence, interpreting House's comments as criticism.

House gave her a weak smile.

"It's not that. I just thought it was something else that caused it. Some_other_ activity you did that night," he said meaningfully.

"What?" Chloe demanded. Then she blushed and looked contrite. "Oh. That."

Dr Wright had cottoned on to what they were talking about.

"Well, you'll never know what caused it and it really doesn't matter," he said. "The only thing you need to worry about now is completely fighting off that infection and recovering from your surgery.

"You're extraordinarily lucky, there don't seem to be any serious consequences from the infection or your fever. Your kidneys were a worry there for a while, but they seem to be OK."

He gave House a nod.

"Actually Chloe, you've got Dr House to thank for that – he was watching you very carefully and picked up your kidney problem early enough that we could treat it without causing any lasting damage."

Chloe looked over at House, suddenly feeling shy. The only thing she could think to do was joke.

"I'll think of you every time I pee," she said meekly.

House snorted a laugh.

"Aw, that's so sweet of you."

Wright watched them exchange japes with a knowing look. He suddenly felt a little mean for what he'd done to House.

"How's your pain level Chloe? Are the drugs doing the trick?" Wright asked.

Chloe thought for a moment. She hadn't had pain as the top-most thought in her brain since she'd been awake – and she couldn't remember when that had last been the case.

"Hurts, but only if I think about it," she answered, then smirked. "Nice."

House laughed.

Wright smiled. "OK, well that's good to hear. We can't keep you on the morphine indefinitely, but we'll try to turn it down slowly for you."

He returned the chart to its place on the end of the bed.

"I'm going to suggest moving you out of the ICU later today. If you continue to improve, you'll probably be discharged in a few days. You'll need follow up visits and a home nurse to help with the dressings for a couple of weeks, but we can discuss all that later. I'll come back and see you tomorrow."

As she watched Wright leave the room, Chloe realised her eyelids felt heavy. The conversation had been exhausting and she didn't want to think about dealing with the real world just yet. Working out what to do when she left hospital seemed like an enormous issue and she wanted it put off for another time, but she figured House would want to know what was going on.

"Suppose I need to start thinking about what happens after…" she started.

"Wait until you feel better," he said, cutting her off.

Chloe was surprised, but relieved. "Don't know about that coffee – feel a bit sick," she muttered, her strength waning.

"No you don't, you're just tired," he said bluntly. What he'd given her was pretty much just coffee-flavoured warm milk – he wouldn't give caffeine to someone whose kidneys weren't fully functional.

"You've been awake for a while and you need some rest."

Chloe nodded, he was probably right.

"You going to do some work today?" she asked, sleepily. "Other than look out for my kidneys?"

"Do you think I should?" he asked, surprised.

"Might be a good idea. You must be getting bored. Come back after lunch." She snuggled down into the bed, groaning a little at the discomfort as she moved.

House stood and watched her for a moment.

"OK. I'll come back later this afternoon. Want anything?" he asked, but she was already asleep.

------------------------------------------------------------

When House returned to his office he pulled Chloe's purse out from under his desk. He'd had the foresight to bring it with them when they'd come into hospital, in case she'd needed anything, but it had been lying in his office ever since.

He pulled out her cell phone. Thankfully it had been switched off, so when he turned it on, it still had some battery left. He thanked his photographic memory for retaining the piece of information that Chloe's sister's name was Elle. She hadn't said anything about her family recently, but House figured they probably needed to know what was going on, especially now that it was time to start thinking about her recovery. He had no idea what Chloe would want to do, but he remembered that it had been her sister who had collected her from the hospital last time and helped with her convalescence.

He picked up his desk phone and dialled the Chicago number listed for Elle in Chloe's cell.

"Hello?" The woman's voice was brusque and there was clearly the sound of a crying child in the background.

"Is this…" House paused, realising he didn't know Elle's last name. "Is this Elle?"

"Yes. Speaking?" She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and issued muffled yells to whoever was in the background. It had no effect on lowering the noise level.

"Elle, this is Doctor Gregory House from the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."

"Oh. Is Chloe sick again?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"Uh, yes, I thought I'd call and let you know…" he was interrupted.

"Is it her stomach thing again?"

_Stomach thing? _House couldn't imagine anyone misinterpreting an ectopic pregnancy as a stomach thing. It could only mean that Chloe hadn't told her sister the truth.

"Ah. Well…" He tried to stall while he worked out what to say.

"I can't come, if that's what you're asking," Elle stated bluntly.

"I'm sorry?" House asked, not sure what she was getting at.

"I came and helped her get on the plane last time, but I've got two kids under four and I just can't keep running off to get her out of trouble."

"You did more than put her on the plane last time, though?" House asked, astonished that Chloe's sister would think that helping a sibling from hospital qualified as 'getting them out of trouble'.

"Look, by the time we got home she was feeling better. She was fine by herself. I was going to sit with her for a while but I could tell she didn't want me there. You try getting her to do something she doesn't want to do." Elle started to sound defensive.

House shook his head in disbelief. Not only had Chloe not had him to look after her, she'd had _no one_. He'd been under the impression that Chloe had stayed with her sister, or vice versa, while she'd been recovering from the miscarriage.

"Is there anyone else I can call – your parents?" He decided not to bother with Elle any further.

"No mom and dad are in Europe and I probably wouldn't bother them with something like this. I mean, it's not serious is it? She's OK, isn't she?" Elle didn't sound particularly interested in the answer, and covered the mouthpiece to yell at someone again.

House couldn't help letting out a noise of disbelief – it had taken her this long before she'd even thought to ask how Chloe was.

"She's doing much better now, but she's had major surgery and has been in a coma for the past few days." House deliberately made it sound serious.

"Oh." That seemed to bring up Elle short. "I didn't realise. Hang on a second." She covered the mouthpiece again and spoke to someone at length.

Just as House was about to get irritated enough to hang up on her, she came back on the line.

"Can you tell me the name of the hospital again?" she asked.

House sighed, relieved that at last she seemed to be taking the situation as seriously as was required.

"Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital," he said slowly and deliberately as if talking to someone extremely stupid.

"OK. And you said she's doing better?" Elle asked.

"Yes, it looks like she'll make a full recovery, but…"

"Great."

House could hear the relief in Elle's voice. He doubted it was relief on Chloe's behalf.

"I'll organise some flowers for her," Elle continued. "If she gets desperate she can call me, but I can't fly over there. I've got this fundraiser next week and I just can't drop everything now. Besides, Jack's got the measles, so it's probably not good for her to be here if she's not well, and I can't really take care of anyone else. But if she's really desperate, she can call."

House couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I'll be sure to pass that on to Chloe," he said bitingly. "Her sister is only available if she's really desperate for help."

The sarcasm either passed by Elle or she decided not to pick up on it.

"Yeah. Well, thanks for letting me know."

House listened to the beeping of the phone for long seconds after Elle hung up. No wonder Chloe was – _how had Wilson put it?_ – self-contained and independent. She had to be. There was no one looking out for her.

One more thing they seemed to have in common, House thought.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Wilson stuck his head through the office door.

"How's things this morning?" Wilson asked brightly. "Need anything?"

House reached over to grab the yoyo from his desk, avoiding looking up.

"You really have impeccable timing, you know that?" House muttered.


	15. Chapter 15

_Wednesday afternoon_

When House returned to Chloe's room in the afternoon he couldn't help but be taken aback by the massive floral arrangement that felt like it was absorbing most of the oxygen in the room. The scale of the flowers made the orchids he'd sent look like something picked up at a gas station. House marvelled at how quickly her sister Elle must have wanted the task off her hands and how much she must have paid to have them delivered that fast.

He looked over at Chloe. She was lying on her right side, asleep, but with a grimace of pain on her face. He walked over and put a hand on her shoulder to wake her.

"Chloe, wake up and roll on your back."

Chloe stirred, but she didn't want to wake up. She knew she was in pain again and at least when she was asleep it was easier to bear.

"Chloe, it will hurt less if you lie on your back," House said tiredly.

His words penetrated Chloe's foggy brain and she turned in the bed, groaning.

"It hurts again," she complained, still not fully awake.

"I know. You're being weaned off the morphine, my little drug addict, and it's not much fun. But it will hurt less if you don't lie on your surgical scar."

Chloe lay still for a while, taking in all the things that were hurting or annoying her.

"I hate this."

"So, not feeling as positive as you were this morning, I take it? No longer so happy to be alive?"

"No," Chloe grumped. "But I've got this stupid thing around my arm that takes my blood pressure every ten minutes, and a clip on my finger that I don't even know what it's for, and needles in my hand and sticky things on my chest and a tube you-know-where because I can't even go to the bathroom by myself. So I don't think it's unreasonable to be a bit tetchy."

House sighed. It was lucky in a way that his conversation with Elle was so fresh in his mind, it imbued him with more patience and sympathy than he might otherwise have had.

"I see we've regained the capacity to use full sentences just in time for a tantrum – oh, yey," he said flatly.

"The thing on your finger is checking your oxygen levels and you don't need it any more." He reached over and took it off, turning off a monitor that began to beep as soon as he did. "The blood pressure cuff will come off when you leave ICU later today and so will the 'sticky things'. The IV's going to stay for a while and so will the catheter, I'm afraid, because we need to make sure your kidneys are working properly."

Chloe closed her eyes for a moment.

"I really hate this."

House nodded.

"I know. It sucks."

Chloe sighed and opened her eyes. She immediately saw the massive floral arrangement and narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, just to top everything off: hideous flowers," she spat. "Let me guess: my sister. She's wealthy and has no taste. Isn't it funny how those two things so often go together?"

House could hear the bitterness in Chloe's voice.

"I take it you called her?" Her voice was controlled.

"Yes, I called. I thought you'd want your family to know." House paced around her bed to look closely at the flowers, avoiding her eyes, wishing they could go back to the happy-to-be-alive Chloe from earlier that morning. He knew that it was perfectly normal for post-coma patients to experience mood swings; he just didn't want to have to put up with them.

"You were unconscious," he added defensively and not altogether truthfully.

He picked up the card nestled within the arrangement.

"_Dear Chloe, Get well soon. Love Elle, Victor, Jack and Justin," _he read. "Gee, she's a sentimental one, that sister of yours, isn't she?" House said sarcastically.

Chloe realised she shouldn't be angry with him for calling. It wasn't his fault she hadn't told him much about her family. He hadn't really talked about his either – the subject just never seemed to come up. Perhaps that suited them both.

"Let me guess, she had one of her 'ladies who lunch' appointments, or a fundraiser, or a spa appointment. Whatever – she's too busy to visit. She's a bitch, but she's got a conscience and it must be pricking for her to send flowers that expensive."

House looked at Chloe, wondering if she would be hurt by her sister's words to him or whether she knew her well enough to know what to expect.

"One of the kids is sick. And she has a fundraiser. Not necessarily in that order."

"Wow, she must be busy," Chloe said sarcastically. "Of course, she does have a full-time, live-in nanny and no job, but still."

"What can I say? Families are overrated," House muttered.

Chloe shrugged. "It's no less than I expected. I was amazed she came out last time."

That reminded House. "You didn't tell her what happened."

"No." Chloe sighed. "Would you have?"

House shrugged. He had to give her that one.

"So, no help coming from her then. I guess I'll just have to work something out," Chloe said, feeling a bit sick about what she would do. "God, I don't want to even think about it. I can't even imagine having the strength to get out of this bed, let alone get on a plane." She couldn't help the whiny tone in her voice, even if she didn't like hearing it coming from her own mouth.

"Lets cross that bridge when we come to it," House mumbled. Chloe looked at him, wondering what he meant, annoyed that he wouldn't just come out and say what he was thinking.

"Get rid of those flowers," she said, changing the subject, wanting to avoid thinking about it, knowing it would just irritate and sadden her further. "They're in the way of my beautiful orchids. Which, by the way, don't have a card – I asked the nurse to search."

"Really?" House said blandly. He didn't feel like playing the Patch Adams doctor, cheering up the patient. He was still too tired.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, changing the subject.

Chloe took in his irritated tone, his forced patience with her evident. Suddenly she was overwhelmed by a wave of anger: it wasn't as if she was making him hang around – she'd never asked him to look after her. And how dare he call her family behind her back? He probably had parents or siblings that would come running if he was sick and all she could count on was being sent flowers. She hated to think what sort of conclusions he might have jumped to about her from that.

"No, just go away. Leave me alone." She turned her head away from him. The aggression in her voice surprised her; she felt it, but didn't think she had enough energy to express it.

"What?" He looked at her in surprise, a little hurt.

"I know you don't really want to be here," she challenged.

"Well of course I'd prefer that I didn't have to visit you…" He'd been about to add "in hospital", but she didn't let him finish.

"Fine. I don't want you here anyway." Chloe knew she was being unreasonable, but didn't seem to be able to control her feelings.

"I don't even know why you've been hanging around. It's not like you wanted this. Wanted us."

"Look Chloe," he started, trying to stay calm, trying to think of her emotional instability as a symptom, not an attack.

"No, just get out. I hate you." Her tone was calm, but deadly cold, and Chloe was almost as surprised as House at the words coming out of her mouth.

"You don't mean that," he said.

She tried hard to reign in the ridiculous feelings storming through her. She felt like a teenager, raging at her parents, saying things she felt but didn't mean.

"Maybe," she admitted quietly, reluctantly. All she could think was how bad she must look and how much trouble she'd been to him. And she could feel the weight of having to take care of herself again once she left the hospital hanging over her like a black cloud. "But I still think you should go."

Chloe couldn't help but see the look of relief that flitted across House's face. It made her anger dissolve instantly and instead she was on the verge of bursting into tears. It just proved her suspicions – he didn't really want to be with her.

"OK." House started backing out of the room before she could change her mind. He didn't need this in his life.

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Chloe lay in bed, knowing that House wasn't coming back in a hurry. She'd scared him off. And she'd done it deliberately. Yes, she was feeling angry and aggressive and she knew those feelings were unusual, but she could have controlled them.

Her anger morphed into melancholy and despite the pain she again curled on her side, this time facing away from the door, wanting to hide the tears that had began to roll down her face.

She remembered the long weeks at home after she'd come out of hospital the last time. Her sister had helped her to her apartment, but then Chloe had more or less thrown her out. She hadn't had to try very hard; Elle hadn't been all that keen to play nursemaid anyway. They'd never been close and Chloe couldn't bring herself to share what had happened. If she couldn't talk about it with Elle, then it was better that Elle wasn't there.

Her need to be alone had faded as the pain had set in and as the reality of her double loss – a baby and Greg – had cemented. She'd refused to return his calls, not wanting to hear his voice, be tempted by what might have been, listen to him stumble through what would have ended up being all the reasons they shouldn't see each other anymore. It was better that way.

But she knew that if she'd been in the same city as him, she would have called, probably at 2am one morning when the pain was bad. She would have swallowed the pride that stopped her from asking for help from anyone, desperate to have him hold her again and tell her everything was going to be all right. She would have believed him.

If she was going to have to do it all alone again, it was better that she started now.

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**A/N: **Sorry for the shortish chapter - more soon I promise. Thanks so much for your support and reviews as always. You make my day!


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **Hi everyone, I'm still playing with this story and the plot is taking some interesting twists that I didn't expect. For this chapter the plot fairy and the smut fairy had a little altercation. The smut fairy is now lying back with a smug expression and a cigarette, while the plot fairy has had to get a cup of tea and have a lie down. You have been warned.

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Wilson had been in his office with a patient and had seen House walk out onto the balcony from the corner of his eye. Then he'd become involved in the consultation, a lengthy discussion about treatment options for a breast cancer patient who had been in remission until a few weeks ago.

He showed the patient to the door almost an hour later with his usual positive smile. It wasn't until he sat down at his desk to write up notes that he saw House again and realised he must have been sitting out in the cold for that whole time.

Wilson grabbed his coat and walked outside, taking in House's profile. He'd brought out a chair from the conference room and was sitting with his chin in his hand, staring out over the trees. His body seemed slumped, defeated, and Wilson jumped to the most logical conclusion.

"Oh God, House, has something happened? Is Chloe okay?" he said in a rush.

House looked up, a little startled by Wilson's words – he'd been so lost in his own thoughts he hadn't even heard him step out on the balcony. He sat back a little and stretched.

"No, she's fine, a little temperamental, but fine."

Wilson gave him a puzzled look, not sure what he meant.

"I'd say it's emotional instability from the coma," he explained and Wilson nodded. "She threw me out."

"What?"

"Told me she hated me and that she didn't want me around."

"You know she didn't mean it, House."

"Yeah, I know." He collapsed a little in his chair again. Actually he wasn't sure, maybe she had meant it, at least a little bit.

Wilson was puzzled by his reaction. This wasn't the first time someone had said they hated House, to his face. It normally didn't even scratch the surface.

"So why the long face?"

"I'm just tired."

Wilson sighed a little and sat down on the low wall dividing the two balconies, wrapping his coat a little tighter around him.

"I don't know what's going to happen when she gets out of hospital," House admitted after they'd been silent for a while. "I think she wants to go home."

"Did she say that?"

"Not exactly, but…" he trailed off, lost in his musings for a moment.

"It's not like General Hospital, is it?" Wilson asked.

"What are you going on about?" House asked tetchily.

"Sometimes House, I think that your problem is not that you lack romance, but that you're so completely romantic that reality can never measure up. That's why you're so cynical."

"Yeah, that's me. Page Colin Firth and let him know he's been replaced."

Wilson smiled at the quip.

"I just mean that in General Hospital, the heroine comes out of a coma looking made-up and stunning, and then thanks the hero for saving her. She professes her undying love and they kiss and live happily ever after. Real life's not like that."

House rolled his eyes.

"Of course it's not. Don't be ridiculous. And neither's General Hospital – you forgot that first she would lose her memory and then fall in love with her lover's twin brother."

"So did she tell you she wants to go back home?" Wilson asked again, trying to get to the bottom of House's issue.

"No, but she hasn't asked if she could stay here."

"With you?"

"No, in your hotel room," he answered sarcastically. "Yes, with me."

"Have you offered?"

House paused.

"Well, not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"I guess it means no," House said, his tone rising, beginning to get irritated by Wilson's perceptive questioning.

"So are you going to?"

House tightened his lips, silent as he thought about it. He hadn't even been sure if he'd wanted her around in that way when she'd been completely healthy. And now that she was an invalid? He just didn't know.

Wilson waited for a moment and then asked, "So what would you say if she did ask if she could stay with you?"

"She's not going to." It was a sudden realisation, but he knew it was true. Chloe was nothing if not just as stubborn as he was, and just as determined to stand on her own two feet.

"So it's up to you then," Wilson said, rising to his feet and stamping them a little to revive his circulation in the cold air.

"Hmm," House answered non-committedly, still staring out over the trees.

"Go inside House, it's freezing." Wilson turned and opened the door to his office. "You've got at least a day or two to work out what you want – she's going to be in here for a while yet."

At Wilson's words, House started to become aware of how cold it actually was. He rose stiffly and went inside, closing the door sharply behind him.

Wilson just watched as the door closed.

"You're welcome, House," he said to the empty space, returning to the warmth of his office.

**------------------------------------------------------------**

Chloe lay in bed, listening to the sounds of the hospital quietening down as night moved in. Nurses talked more quietly, visitors left, the usual pace stepped down a notch.

She'd been moved to a ward room late that afternoon, a very nice, private room in a quiet corner of the floor. Her room was large enough to fit two beds, but it was just her. She had a nice view from the window, and she was far enough from the nurse's station to not be constantly disturbed by movement. She wondered if her connection to House had had any impact on the room she'd been given. The amount of monitoring equipment had also reduced significantly in comparison to the ICU and she was looking forward to getting a decent block of sleep.

She hadn't seen House since she'd told him to go that afternoon and when they'd moved her, the first thought she'd had was to wonder if he'd be able to find her again. Of course that was silly, he was a doctor at the hospital, they'd probably even called him to let him know. But somehow she knew she wouldn't be seeing him again that night.

The thought made her reminisce about the times they'd spent together. The scene that came most clearly to mind was the second last time she'd been in Princeton. It had been sometime that weekend that they'd unintentionally conceived the pregnancy that had so dramatically changed her life. She wasn't sure exactly when, because they'd been pretty careless with the birth control all weekend, but something she specially remembered was the Friday night, her first night in town.

Her flight had got in around lunchtime and then she'd been in client meetings all afternoon. They'd arranged to meet at her hotel at eight, and she'd been distracted all afternoon, feeling childish with excitement. She told herself it was ridiculous to feel so keyed up about simply seeing another person, but she'd upgraded her room to a suite and organised a candle-lit, in-room dinner.

He'd arrived just a few minutes after room service had left, the table set with white linen, taper candles ready to be lit, and crockery, cutlery and silver-domed food dishes waiting on a trolley along with champagne in an ice bucket.

She might as well have organised KFC in a bucket for all the notice he took of it.

When she opened the door she didn't even get the chance to say hello before he was pushing her against the wall and closing the door behind him. His kiss was hungry, leaving her in no doubt that the food was going to be cold when – if – they got to it.

When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, both of them needing a chance to draw ragged breaths, he looked directly into her eyes, peering as if there was something there he needed to see.

"What?" she asked softly, wondering what he was trying to find.

He'd shaken his head as if to clear it. "Nothing," he mumbled.

Chloe smiled at him and took his hand, leading him to the table. He sat in one of the chairs, but when she started to move away to the trolley, intending to put out their plates, he'd pulled her back. She looked at him questioningly, but all she got in answer was a suggestively raised eyebrow as he patted the table in front of him with one hand.

Chloe stepped in between him and the table, hoisting herself up lightly to sit in front of him. He grabbed one knee to open her legs as far as her skirt would allow and then pulled his chair in, sitting so that her knees were each side of his chest.

He looked up at her and smiled wickedly. Chloe looked down at him and was astonished at the surge of arousal she felt, just from his stare. She could feel herself growing damp, and he hadn't even touched her yet. She lowered her head to his for a long, languid kiss, while his hands found their way to her shirt buttons, undoing them one by one. Once her shirt was open, his hands pushed the fabric apart, running over her belly and chest, reaching around to her back to unclip her bra.

He rose from the chair slowly, never taking his mouth from hers. As soon as he was standing, he moved his kisses to her neck, pushing her shirt over her shoulders and down her arms. When her cuffs got tangled around her wrists he made a growling noise and bit her collarbone hard enough to leave a bruise she had had to cover for a couple of days afterwards. She pulled away for a moment to help him pull the shirt off her completely. Then he slid her bra straps off, following one of them with a line of kisses down her arm.

With her breasts bared to his eyes, he'd stared at her to the point that she'd started to feel a little uncomfortable. He had, after all, seen them a few times by then. Concerned, she'd put a hand to his chin, lifting his head to get him to meet her eyes. She gave him a second questioning look, again wondering what seemed to have got into him that night. He stared back at her and again, she was struck by the look in his eyes. Desire, certainly. Confusion, most probably. And, something else. She couldn't be positive, but she was sure it was sadness.

Before she had a chance to ask him about it, he broke the spell, bending his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth. A hand rose to her other breast to gently stroke the smooth skin before taking the nipple between his fingers and twisting hard enough to make her gasp. She felt him smile against her at the noise.

His other hand was making its way up her thigh, impatiently dragging the fabric of her skirt into a bunch, pushing it out of his way. She felt his hand leave her breast and travel to her shoulder, pressing her body back down on the table.

As she leaned back, his mouth moved lower, kissing her abdomen and leaving a wet trail as he moved down her torso. She felt the candlesticks topple over behind her as she lay down, the long white tapers falling from their perch to roll across the table – one towards her shoulder, the other over the edge.

She felt for the edge of his chair with her toes, giving herself just enough leverage to raise her hips and reach underneath her for the zipper of her skirt. She intended to pull it down, but House refused to budge from his position between her legs and instead pushed the skirt up further so it pooled around her waist in a twist of material.

He looked down at her simple black thong and pulled the thin slip of fabric to one side, baring her to him. Again, he looked, and Chloe had tried to make sense of his expression, but when his fingers had started to move against her, she closed her eyes to drink in the feelings his touch provoked.

He leant over her again, his tongue reaching out to flick over her breasts as his fingers continued to work magic, parting and entering her, both of them groaning at discovering how wet she was for him.

Chloe opened her eyes to watch him, aroused by the sight as well as the sensations of what he was doing to her. She saw him look over the table and saw in his eyes that he had an idea.

He leaned over her and reached up to her face, and Chloe had thought he was going to stroke her cheek, but then he grabbed behind her shoulder, leaning back slightly to show her that he'd picked up one of the white candles. He sought permission with his eyes before moving back to a standing position between her legs. She was laid out on the table before him, mostly naked, her legs spread, and she could imagine what an erotic sight it must have been for him.

She felt him move the candle along the inside of her thigh, before tickling her entrance with the thicker end, wetting it with her juices. It was only slightly larger than one of his fingers, but the cool solidity of it felt very strange as it slid inside her. He levered it around, not very gently, waiting until she let out a hiss of breath, knowing he'd hit the spot. He'd then sat down in his chair and, learning forward, pressed his tongue against her clit.

Chloe had moaned loudly, louder than she ever had with him. She couldn't help it, it had been drawn from her against her will. He kept up the constant pressure of his mouth and a firm hold on the candle pressing hard, but just right, inside her. His other hand had rested on her thigh, stroking the soft skin gently.

It had only taken a few minutes, but Chloe couldn't stand the delicious torture a moment longer. Her orgasm broke over her entire body in waves; she could even feel the vague pain of a muscle cramp in her foot as every nerve in her body imploded.

Before the final quivers of her orgasm had had a chance to die down, she felt the candle slip from her body only to be replaced by a much larger, much hotter presence. It was as if the candle had transformed into hot molten wax, shaped in a perfect fit to her own body. She looked up to watch as, now standing, he had lifted her legs to wrap around his waist and begun thrusting into her forcefully.

He had given and now he was taking.

She felt his desperation, saw his face, closed and concentrating, his eyes half-lidded with desire. She could feel him moving inside her, pressing where the candle had been, the sensitivity there now making it feel bruised. The table was shaking and one of the tipped candlesticks rolled away from her and landed with a thud on the floor. Chloe had grasped the edges of the table to brace herself as he arched his back to thrust more deeply.

She wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to push her fingernails into his shoulders, but she was helpless, unable to move except to roll her hips in response to each thrust. She watched, instead, as his orgasm mounted, his breath coming in gasps until he groaned aloud, closing his eyes and throwing back his head.

She had expected him to fall forward, landing on her in the little death of orgasm. Instead he had pulled out and staggered a little, grabbing for the chair behind him and sitting down. Still lying spreadeagled with her legs open to him, Chloe realised the view he would have once he opened his eyes and she sat up, her muscles still quaking.

"Sleep?" she'd asked, her voice had sounded loud in the room. They had barely spoken.

He had just nodded in response and she'd hopped down from the table, waiting for him to rise. They'd both limped to the bed – Chloe's insides deliciously sore from his treatment. That had been good pain, she realised now.

They'd slept for a couple of hours and then risen to eat their cold feast. House had made jokes about the mess on the clean tablecloth and about lighting candles and making wishes. He had been just like his old self after the strange, staring quietness of earlier.

Then their conversation had turned a little odd.

"I appreciate the seduction scene, but it's really not necessary."

"Maybe it wasn't for you," she'd replied, meaning it as a tease.

His face had frozen. "Didn't we agree to meet up tonight?"

She'd smiled, but remembered the slight chill she'd felt at his reaction. Did he really think she was sleeping with someone else in town? It wasn't as if they'd discussed any kind of commitment, but surely he wouldn't imagine that she'd have someone else going when she only visited New Jersey every few weeks.

"Of course. I just meant, maybe it was for me," she'd said diplomatically, wanting to diffuse what had happened.

"Good," was all he'd said.

Chloe struggled to remember the rest of the conversation they'd had. All she knew was that when she'd left New Jersey on Monday morning, she felt like they'd moved into a new, deeper phase of their relationship – or whatever the hell it was. She hadn't been exactly sure what it had meant, but it had left her feeling almost desolate that it was going to be six weeks before she'd be able to get back again. And then, when she had, instead of building things further, their lives had fallen apart.

Chloe groaned a little and tried to find a more comfortable position on the bed. She was beyond tired, but her mind was working too hard to allow her to sleep. And now, thanks to her reminiscing, she was horny too.

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The wind was cold on House's face as he kicked off on the bike into the early dawn light. He'd lain in bed for a few hours, but the bastard insomnia was not letting him out of its grasp. Eventually he'd risen, watching stupid television and pacing around every now and then.

Finally as he'd seen the sky lighten he knew what he needed. He'd dressed warmly, thrown a few essentials into his backpack and taken off on the bike. He had a full tank.


	17. Chapter 17

_Thursday_

Wilson walked into House's office around midday. He'd been to see Chloe in her new room but she'd been asleep and House hadn't been around. He thought it might be a good chance to follow up on the conversation he'd had with House the previous day – to find out if he'd come to any decisions about the future of his relationship with Chloe.

But House's office was empty, his computer not turned on. Wilson noted the unusually extravagant floral arrangement set carelessly on the floor near his desk and wondered where it had come from. Wilson had had his share of patients who sent him flowers, even the occasional Mrs Wilson had done so, but it wasn't like House had patients who would do that.

He wandered through the open door into the conference room and asked one of the fellows if House was around.

"Haven't seen him today," Kutner muttered through a mouthful. "Figured he was with the chick."

"Her name's Chloe," Wilson said impatiently. "Has anyone paged him?"

"Nup. Cuddy told us to leave him alone unless it was urgent. Foreman's around though, if you need something."

"Okay, thanks." Wilson walked back to the office with a sense of foreboding. He knew it was entirely possible that House had been in the cafeteria, or the bathroom, when he'd gone to see Chloe. But for some reason, he didn't think so.

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House sat on the rough post fence in the highway rest stop, looking out through the trees and trying to ignore the humming of the traffic behind him. He'd ridden without a destination in mind, just keeping an eye on the gas tank so he'd know when it was time to make a decision. He'd given himself an arbitrary deadline – deciding that once his tank reached halfway empty he had to either turn back, or find a gas station and keep going. Turning back meant he'd decided to ask Chloe to live with him – for while she recovered at least, they could work the rest out later. Keeping going meant he was, well, going to keep going.

He'd just reached the halfway point when the rest stop sign had loomed large. He was starting to get a little tired and achy anyway and the initial thrill of dodging semi-trailers had become more of a nagging stress for the past few miles.

He rummaged in his backpack for a bottle of water and a box of Ritz crackers – the only food he could find in his kitchen suitable to bring along. Yet another reason he couldn't manage having Chloe in his house – he had no food.

The game he'd been playing with himself ever since he'd hit the road had been to come up with as many reasons as possible as to why it was a really bad idea to get further involved with Chloe. It hadn't been difficult and he'd already lost count of how many he'd been able to come up with.

The clincher was one he'd thought of about ten miles back. He realised that even if he was totally and completely sure of inviting her to come and stay with him, he'd have to work hard to convince her that it was a good idea. He was pretty sure she didn't want to go home by herself – she'd hinted as much – but he knew she'd resist the idea of being taken care of.

He sipped the water and realised that what he really wanted was a coffee. There had been a roadhouse just a few miles back, he recalled. It didn't count as turning back, he reasoned to himself, it was just logical to return to it, because there might not be another one for miles. He could always decide to keep going again from there.

Decided, he grabbed his helmet and headed back to the bike.

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Wilson closed Cuddy's office door behind him quietly. She looked up at him, frowning.

"Is this urgent? I'm snowed."

Wilson took a seat across from her at her desk.

"I think House has run out."

"What do you mean, 'run out'?"

Wilson sighed. He'd been back to Chloe's room in the late afternoon and there was still definitely no House. Chloe had been watching TV quietly and he hadn't gone in to speak with her.

"He and Chloe had an argument yesterday and he hasn't been in today at all."

"Wilson, you know House and predictability. I think you're panicking a bit too soon."

Wilson ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, you're right. I guess I'm just thinking about Chloe. She's been alone since yesterday afternoon – no visitors." He paused, thinking. "I don't suppose you could go tell her House is working on a case?"

Cuddy scowled at him a little.

"I don't make it a habit to lie to patients."

"What? Lying to a patient to cover up for something stupid House has done? Isn't that part of your job description?" Wilson asked shrewdly.

"This is different!" Cuddy protested.

"Well, how about just making a friend feel better. House said you and Chloe knew each other."

"Not really…" Cuddy said, hesitating.

Wilson knew he had her.

"Just think what it would be like to be in hospital, your family in another state and the only person you know being House. _Unpredictable House_," he emphasised.

Cuddy groaned a little. "Okay, I get it. I'll try."

Wilson smiled at her.

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House sat in a booth in the diner with his hands cupped around his coffee – warming his still cold fingers. He'd eaten a huge lunch, having realised that a handful of crackers hadn't been near enough, and let the waitress refill his cup a number of times. He stared out the window into the parking lot, watching as two truck drivers greeted each other warmly and started talking animatedly.

House recalled the night he'd met Chloe. She'd been in a bar by herself – celebrating a business success, she'd told him later. He'd chatted her up and – to his surprise – it had worked, she'd taken him back to her hotel room. For what he thought would be a one-night stand, the sex had been very good. But sex was sex. What made him leave his phone number with her was the conversation they'd had afterwards. She was interesting, intelligent, well travelled and well read, and just a little bit sassy.

After they'd seen each other a few times he'd started to notice how much he'd begun to look forward to her visits. He'd wondered about talking to her about how they might arrange to see each other more frequently, thinking maybe he could visit her sometimes. One night he'd been so desperate to see her, when he got to her hotel room he literally couldn't tear his eyes off her. But then everything had gone wrong. He smiled ruefully to himself thinking that he could divide most of his recent life into BP and AP – before and after the ectopic pregnancy.

He wondered why he was still prevaricating. After more than a couple of hours on his bike he'd managed to compile an extensive list of reasons that added up to letting Chloe know it would be best if they said their good byes.

Why then, was there one image he couldn't get out of his mind? Stuck in his brain was the other night in the hospital, when he'd held her while the nurse had changed the bed. Having her body pressed against his was arousing, regardless of the circumstances, but this was something more. She'd given in to him, let him look after her. And by doing that, she'd made him feel that it was something he wanted desperately to do. He'd felt warm from the inside out with a new kind of what he could only describe as _purpose_.

Still, he thought, that was one thing against his other, very long list. How could one irrational emotional response outweigh all the logical, sensible reasons he'd come up with? Of course it couldn't. _Could it? _

He looked at his watch, surprised to find that he'd managed to spend almost the whole afternoon sitting in the diner. He rose and tossed some cash on the table, heading back out to his bike. He still wasn't entirely sure which way he would turn.

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Cuddy walked into Chloe's room, feeling an immediate stab of sympathy for her. Chloe smiled, but Cuddy could tell it was fake.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Feeling a little better," Chloe answered.

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Not at all – I'd be glad of the company." Chloe grabbed the television remote control and clicked it off. "I guess with the hours I usually work I never realised how appalling daytime television can be."

Cuddy smiled a little.

"Yeah, I never understood how House was so fond of that soapie…" Cuddy trailed off, remembering what it was she was there for.

"Speaking of House, he's had an urgent case today. A patient's very ill and he's been working with his team on…"

Chloe smiled at her and interrupted.

"Thanks Lisa, but you don't need to do that."

Cuddy blew out a breath, relieved but also concerned about how their conversation might turn now.

"Sorry. I'm not a very good liar."

"I'm sure you can be when you want to."

"Hmm. I think you're right. I didn't really want to lie to you."

Chloe resettled herself against the pillows, sitting up a little to speak to Cuddy.

"I don't know Greg that well, but I know enough to know what's going on," Chloe said. "He needs some space."

"You're probably right," Cuddy said reassuringly. She looked at Chloe closely. She appeared calm and collected, but there was something about her that made Cuddy feel that it was put on, a veneer.

"So how are you feeling really?" she asked, wondering if they should change the subject.

"Sore and still tired, but actually in a strange way, kind of better. The surgery wound hurts, but my other pain is better. It's easier to deal with because I know the wound will heal. Does that make sense?"

Cuddy nodded. "Yes, it does. I'm glad to hear that your chronic pain is better, that's great," she said, genuinely pleased.

"Not half as glad as I am," Chloe said, giving a watery smile, tears springing to her eyes. "Oh and there's this," she said, sniffing and wiping a tear from her cheek. "I don't know why but I'm just feeling pathetic. I teared up at an ad for tissues just before." She gave a weak laugh.

"Didn't House or Wright explain? It's really common to have mood swings and feel emotional after both surgery and a coma. So it's perfectly natural that you feel a bit all over the place. It will settle down."

Chloe gave Cuddy a grateful smile. "Thanks, that makes me feel better. Probably explains why I went nuts at Greg too."

"Uh-huh, and I'm sure he understands that."

Chloe took a deep breath. "Was he around while I was, you know, out?"

Cuddy watched as Chloe's veneer cracked, could see the desperate need and anxiety there. Despite her casualness over House's disappearance, she could see that Chloe was upset by it, no matter what she said.

"Yeah, he was here," Cuddy said quietly. "He watched your surgery in the OR and then he came and sat with you as soon as you were out of recovery. He only slept for a few hours in his office, then he came back. He didn't go home until you woke up and he was sure you were out of danger."

Chloe nodded, taking in what Cuddy was telling her.

"Dr Wright said he saved my kidneys."

"I don't know much about that, but I imagine if Dr Wright gave House a compliment then it must be true."

"They don't really get along do they?" Chloe asked.

"House doesn't really get along with anyone." Cuddy said and then bit her lip, wondering if she'd offended Chloe.

"No, he doesn't does he," Chloe said thoughtfully. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking, but also starting to tire from the conversation.

"You're getting tired," Cuddy observed.

"It doesn't take much," Chloe admitted, opening her eyes again.

"I'll let you rest," Cuddy said, rising from the seat. "For what it's worth Chloe, House will be back. I've seen him do this before. It's like…" Cuddy struggled to find a way to explain what she meant. "…You know how they have thinking music on quiz shows when people have to answer the sixty-four million-dollar question? House just needs to go find his thinking music."

Chloe smiled at Cuddy's metaphor. "Thanks."

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Chloe had drifted into a light doze, missing the evening meal, but she wasn't terribly hungry anyway. At some point – she wasn't sure what the time was, but guessed late evening – she woke up, conscious of a presence in her room.

She opened her eyes, blinking in the dimness, but recognition was instant.

"You look like crap," she mumbled sleepily.

"Thanks," House replied sarcastically. It was probably true, he could feel the road grease and dust all over his body and knew he had a bad case of helmet hair. That and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a decent sleep.

"Are you okay?" Chloe asked, coming more awake, raising herself a little in the bed.

"I think so."

Chloe could practically see the tiredness dripping off him. Not only had he physically exhausted himself, he'd obviously been doing a mental marathon all day. She shifted, smoothing out her pillows and moving over to the far side of the bed.

"You look like you could do with some sleep," she said, patting the bed next to her.

House narrowed his eyes at her, but after a moment shrugged off his jacket and leant down to remove his boots. He undressed to his boxers and t-shirt. It was strictly against hospital policy on so many fronts, but when had that ever stopped him?

"Move over to the other side," he said.

Chloe gave him a questioning look.

"So your surgical dressing's on the side away from me," he said exasperatedly, as if it should be obvious.

Chloe nodded and shifted; as usual, he was right.

House awkwardly climbed into the narrow bed next to her, lifting the side rail back up behind him once he was in, to give himself something to lean against.

Chloe couldn't help but shiver as his cold body pressed into her warm skin. She tucked an arm underneath his head and held him close, resting his head on her shoulder. She dropped a kiss to his forehead, rubbing his arm with her hand to warm him up, then tucking the blankets in around him.

"Everything's going to be all right," she whispered, for no reason other than they were the first words that came to her mind.

House just nodded, he knew it would be. He was already starting to feel himself warming up and getting sleepier. He'd made his decision and he'd tell her in the morning – once he'd had a chance to get things organised.

Chloe looked at him for a while, watching as his face smoothed out into sleep. He looked so vulnerable, so exhausted. She thought about the emotional labour he'd put in over the past week. For someone who didn't handle his own or others' emotions well, he'd had to work hard. She recalled his pain when he'd asked why she hadn't returned his calls, his anger as they fought over the lost pregnancy, his passion – and compassion – when they'd made love. Then his despair when he'd found her, collapsed, in his bathroom, sick, again.

She stroked his face gently, smoothing a lock of hair behind his ear. Her heart ached with the need to look after him, to lift the burden he was carrying so heavily.

If only the price wasn't so high.

She knew that she was the weight holding him down, the brick that was making him drown. She had to find a way to release him.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** Just two more chapters to go, so hold on to your hats! There are heaps of people reading and only a few reviewing, so now's a really good time to let me know your thoughts! That said, thank you so much to my regular reviewers - you are inspirational!

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_Friday morning_

House woke slowly, pain from his leg disturbing the most restful sleep he'd had in a week. He swore under his breath, annoyed. As he became more alert he remembered where he was, became aware of his limbs intertwined with Chloe's, her face next to his on the same pillow, sleeping deeply. He checked his watch – just after four am. It had been around nine when he'd got to the hospital and he'd fallen asleep almost instantly. He'd had a good seven hours' sleep and he couldn't believe the difference he felt for it.

But he knew that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep without a Vicoden, and they were in his jacket pocket and his jacket was laying over the chair. He had to get up, and that meant it was probably a good idea to get himself home, wash off the dirt from yesterday's drive and leave Chloe to get some more rest. And despite his contempt for the rules, it probably wasn't a good look for him to be discovered by the morning nursing shift lying in bed with a patient. Even given that she wasn't _his_ patient.

He carefully lowered the railing behind him and slowly withdrew from the tangle of Chloe's arms and legs. She murmured quietly and shifted, but didn't wake up. He stood and suppressed a groan from the shooting pain in his leg. Sleeping in a confined position after riding his bike for several hours hadn't been his smartest move. But then he wondered if he would have slept quite as well if he'd gone home and slept alone.

House quickly swallowed a couple of pills and dressed quietly, keeping an eye on Chloe as she continued to sleep peacefully.

He walked out of her room and headed towards the elevators, leaning heavily on his cane.

"Good morning Dr House," a nurse called out in a cheeky tone from the nursing station in the middle of the floor.

He looked up, unable to stop the guilty expression crossing his face. She'd obviously been in the room and seen him there.

"Uh, thanks," he muttered quietly, knowing that she could have woken them up, kicked him out, and given Cuddy enough ammunition to keep him in clinic duty for a month.

She just nodded with a small smile and then turned back to her work.

House quickly called for the elevator and made his way off the floor as soon as he could. He was going to have a long, hot shower and then see if he could add another few blissful hours of sleep to that night's total. If only he'd known that making a decision would restore his equilibrium, he was sure he'd have done it sooner.

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Chloe didn't wake until the morning shift nurse came in to take her obs. She immediately felt the loss of the warm body next to her and half-wondered if House's visit had been a dream. But then she realised she could still smell the wonderful male essence of him, and the less pleasant faint whiff of exhaust fumes, on the bed linen.

She sat up, wanting to test herself, see how healed she was. She asked the nurse if she could get up and walk around and the nurse agreed, but asked her to wait until she'd finished her morning rounds so she could come back to assist.

Chloe waited for half an hour but became impatient. She really needed to know if she could stand and walk – it was vital to what she had planned.

Moving gingerly, she lowered the bed rail and swung her legs over the side. Holding onto the IV stand for balance, she touched her feet to the floor. She paused for a moment, her head spinning a little from the effort of just getting that far. That didn't bode well for standing and walking, but Chloe was determined.

She stood carefully, keeping her weight balanced back at first so she'd fall back on the bed rather than onto the floor if her legs couldn't support her. She was a little wobbly, but that felt more from the fact that she'd been lying down for a few days than from the surgery or any other issue.

Carefully, cautiously, she took a step and held. Then another. Then another. That was as far as she could get with the various wires and tubes still attached to her. But it proved she could do it. Could she manage further? She'd need to, and soon. As she stood considering the nurse re-entered the room.

"Hey, you were supposed to wait for me!" she said crossly, moving over to grab one of Chloe's arms.

"Sorry," Chloe said, not feeling it. "I couldn't wait."

"I think you've done enough for today. Let's get you back into bed," the nurse ordered, still obviously annoyed.

Chloe just nodded and let herself be put back to bed. She needed her strength, so she'd eat breakfast and then try to sleep again for a while. She thought she could be ready by the afternoon.

------------------------------------------------------------

House managed to get home, shower and catch a few more hours of sleep. He woke feeling rested and full of purpose. After calling his team to tell them where he'd be and when he'd be in – they didn't mention his disappearing act yesterday, which was good, House thought, it meant they were getting used to him – he headed to the market and a couple of other stores to get the things he needed. His next stop was Chloe's hotel, and after alternately charming and threatening the reception staff and showing his hospital ID to every security guard they had, he'd managed to get her reservation cancelled and get into her room to pack and retrieve her things.

In the early afternoon his phone rang. He noted that it was Wright's office number and felt immediately concerned.

Before House could say anything Wright's extremely pissed-off voice began.

"What did you say to her House? What have you done?"

House immediately felt defensive. He'd done everything right, as far as he was concerned. At that very moment he was standing in a deli having just bought homemade chicken soup.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he yelled back, attracting the attention of the other shoppers.

"I'm talking about your girlfriend, Chloe, walking out of here AMA."

"What? When?" House grabbed his bag from the counter and walked out of the store, heading back toward his car.

"Today, now, this afternoon," Wight said. "After I checked up on her this morning, I took her off the IV and had her catheter removed. Apparently pretty much straight after that she demanded to be released. I've been in surgery, so I only just found out."

"But, but…" House's mind crashed in. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. "She doesn't have any clothes," he said weakly, remembering the sight of his torn, blood-stained t-shirt on the ER floor, and knowing her suitcase was in his trunk.

"You know the drill, we can't stop people from leaving against their will. They gave her something from the goodwill."

"Shit." House's mind raced, wondering what to do next. She'd be heading for the airport, he knew that, but he didn't know how far ahead of him she'd be.

He looked at the phone in his hand, quickly formulating a plan. Without saying anything further he hung up the call, unknowingly causing Wright to swear loudly at House's rudeness and throw his phone across his office. Not that House would have cared.

The hospital was between him and the airport. He jumped in the car and raced down the street. He called Wilson's cell.

"House, where are you?" Wilson sounded almost panicked when he answered.

House had forgotten that he had ignored about a dozen voicemail messages from Wilson the day before.

"I'm fine, I don't have time to explain. Meet me out the front of the hospital in five minutes."

"House, I can't just drop everything – I've got a board meeting this afternoon," Wilson's initial relief at hearing from House instantly faded into irritation at his demand.

House sucked in a breath.

"Wilson, I need you. I need your help."

Something in House's voice struck Wilson. He'd been the victim of countless of House's hoaxes, but this time something told him House wasn't crying wolf.

"Okay, let me see what I can do. I'll call you back or I'll be out the front in five. But you'd better have a bloody good explanation about where you've been and what's going on."

"Sure," House replied curtly, hanging up to concentrate on driving.

He started to feel slightly calmer when he pulled into the hospital and saw Wilson waiting out the front. He stopped for barely long enough for Wilson to open the car door and get in, taking off again before he'd even had a chance to close the door.

"Whoa, House, what's going on?"

House felt the words tumble out of him in a rush.

"Chloe's discharged herself AMA and I think she's at the airport. I went for a ride yesterday to give me time to work out what I wanted and although I don't think I'm the best person for the job, I decided I want to look after while she gets better. I've been getting my place ready for her to come and stay and I bought new pillows and chicken soup. She's important to me, and now I've just got to convince her of that. So I can't let her run away again. Get it?"

Wilson shook his head, confused.

"Wait, Chloe's discharged herself?"

House sighed and took a hand of the steering wheel to run it through his hair. "Yes, shall I talk slower?"

"And you've decided to have her come and live with you." Wilson was still catching up on the story.

"Yes."

"But you told her and she ran away."

"No, I didn't get a chance to tell her yet."

"Right. And where were you yesterday?"

"Thinking."

"Geez, House, you could have told someone." Wilson was still irritated by House's cavalier attitude to other people caring about his whereabouts.

"Yeah, okay, okay, I'm sorry. But that's not important now. I need you with me to help search the airport. Two of us will have more luck than just me, especially as I'm not so fast on my feet."

"Right," Wilson decided to give up feeling injured, for a while at least. When he did he suddenly realised how huge what was happening was – House running after a woman.

"So, let me get this straight," Wilson began. "We're on our way to the airport to find Chloe and stop her going home. Where's home?"

"Chicago."

"And is her sister or anyone with her like last time?"

"No, she's alone."

"And she got out of ICU yesterday," Wilson said, the worrying tone back in his voice.

"Precisely."

"Hmmm."

They spent the rest of the trip in silence, House occasionally swearing at slow drivers. They pulled hurriedly into a car park and headed straight into the terminal.

"Will she already be at the gate?" Wilson asked as House moved toward the large schedule board showing imminent departures.

"There's no direct Chicago flights for at least three hours," he said, a touch of relief in his voice. He was fairly sure she hadn't enough time to get to the airport, buy a ticket and get on a plane already. "She probably needs to buy a ticket first, so let's check the counters first."

They turned and headed across the terminal towards the ticket counter area. They'd only gone a few steps when Wilson nudged House.

"House, over there." He pointed to a row of seats just inside an entrance. Sitting in a chair, looking very small and forlorn, sat Chloe, her arms folded around her and her shoulders slumped. The expression on her face was hard to read, but if pressed House would have guessed somewhere between "sad" and "annoyed".

"That's a fetching outfit," he said, walking up to her.

Chloe looked up, startled.

She recovered and answered him sarcastically.

"Yeah, new season's in at the goodwill. Don't spread it around or everyone will want one." The navy track pants and oversized white sweater with a pink number "86" on the front were not her best wardrobe moments.

"What do you want?" she asked.

Yep, definitely annoyed, decided House.

"What do you think?"

"I need to go home, it's the right thing to do," Chloe said stubbornly, wondering who she was trying to convince.

"Uh, right," House said, sitting down next to her. He looked up and saw that Wilson was loitering a short distance away, giving them some privacy. "So when's your flight?"

"I haven't got a ticket yet. This was as far as I could get before I needed to sit down. Pretty pathetic huh?" Chloe was completely annoyed and frustrated with herself. She was so _sick_ of being sick. She couldn't even walk for more than a few feet, and her plan to escape undetected by House hadn't worked. Her irritation left no room to consider the implications of him coming to find her.

"Actually, given that you were in a coma less than seventy-two hours ago, I'd say it was pretty impressive."

Chloe just snorted.

"So why are you here? What do you want?" she asked again.

"I just wanted to tell you that I bought new pillows."

"You drove out to the airport to tell me you bought new pillows," Chloe echoed disbelievingly. "Right."

"For you. To come and stay with me. Right _after_ you go back to hospital and then get discharged properly when you're well enough."

Chloe turned her head to look at him for the first time. She noted that he looked calm, rested; exactly the opposite to how she felt. She couldn't help but shake her head at the look of optimism in his face. He'd decided what he wanted and now, according to House's Law, everyone else would fall into line.

"I really appreciate the offer, but I can't do that. I'm going to be pretty high maintenance for a while, so it's better for both of us that I'm by myself," she said.

He knew her first instinct would be to refuse. "Look, I'm not saying I'm going to be a great carer. I mean, I won't be able to carry you around, and you know my patience has its limits, but I can keep an eye on you and you can have a nurse come in while you need it.

"And you know what?" he whispered conspiratorially. "I _am_ actually a doctor. Rumour has it we look after sick people."

Chloe looked at him carefully, her arms still locked around herself as if in protection from him.

"I can't, Greg, I just can't. It's too much. Too much to ask."

House gave up the joking angle and began to get frustrated at her refusal.

"Why is it too much?"

"I just…I've never…" Chloe struggled to explain why she couldn't accept his offer. "I need to look after myself."

"Why? Why can't you ask for help?" House had a flash back to his call to Wilson only a half hour ago, _Wilson, I need you_. If he could do it…

"I just can't. Please, let me go," she pleaded, her eyes welling with tears.

"Okay, go," he said, irritated. "Go on, buy a ticket. I'll sit here and watch."

Chloe closed her eyes tightly.

"Go on," House encouraged her loudly, gesturing to the ticket office.

"I can't," Chloe said, opening her eyes as a sob broke her words.

"You don't really want to go, do you?" House asked, more gently.

She shook her head. "No, I don't. I want to stay here with you. But I'm scared…"

He reached an arm around her shoulders. "Me too," he confessed quietly.

They sat for a moment, until Chloe relaxed a little and leant into him, her guard coming down.

"I didn't realise what date it was until I came here," Chloe said quietly, pointing her chin towards the departures board.

"What?" House asked, confused. He followed her gesture to look up at the board which loudly proclaimed it to be the eighteenth. He was puzzled, wondering why that set off bells, unable to recall the exact reason the date was meaningful. Then suddenly it clicked into place.

"Oh," was all he said.

Chloe smiled sadly at him.

"Come on, let's go," he said, starting to rise. "We can talk more later, but I don't think you're going to Chicago today, are you?"

"No," Chloe admitted with a sniff, trying to pull herself together.

"Come on then," House stood and offered her a hand.

Chloe shook her head again. She still didn't think she could stay with him, but there was no way she'd be getting on a plane that day, so she might as well let him take her back to the hospital. There was just one little thing…

"What's the problem?" House asked, getting irritated again, because he'd thought they'd reached agreement, at least that she wasn't leaving right away.

"This," Chloe pulled her arms away gingerly to show the bright red, hand-sized stain on the lower right-hand side of her sweater that she'd been hiding. "I think I ripped my stitches getting out of the cab."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Thanks so much for your kind reviews and messages. Second last chapter!

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Wilson had been watching House and Chloe's conversation at the airport from a distance, alternating between hope and concern. At first Chloe's closed posture made him think that House was on a hopeless quest, but then he'd watched as she seemed to gradually warm to him. Then he'd heard House yell and gesture to the ticket desk, as if he was telling Chloe to leave. At that point Wilson had grimaced and started thinking up scripts for the comforting words House might need to hear on the trip home. But then House had put an arm around Chloe and she'd started crying and he'd watched as they'd sat quietly for a moment. Wilson had cursed his strong feminine side for feeling a little teary himself.

Then House had risen and called out.

"Wilson, get your ass over here."

There had been a flurry, an alert security guard noticing the two men fussing over her. He'd come over and seen the blood on Chloe's top and then Wilson had had to take out both his and House's hospital IDs to calm things down while House tended to her.

The guard started to call for an ambulance but Chloe had protested loudly, claiming she wouldn't get in if they called it. House had called her a _stubborn idiot_ and a few other things besides that Wilson had smiled about later, after the crisis had been dealt with.

They established that her wound had reopened and started bleeding, not seriously, but it was something that needed to be attended to quickly. In the end they borrowed a wheelchair from the airport and wheeled her out to the car, carefully transferring her to the backseat. House had driven only slightly less manically back to the hospital, pulling into the ambulance bay.

But now Chloe was back in her room, re-stitched and sedated. Wilson wasn't quite sure of the need for the sedation, but House had insisted and Chloe had shrugged meekly and swallowed the pills.

It was late evening and most of the office side of the hospital was darkened by the time Wilson and House went back to House's office. House had retrieved an inventively hidden bottle of scotch from the bookshelves and grabbed a couple of coffee mugs from the tiny kitchenette in the meeting room next door.

"I think we both deserve this," House said, gesturing for Wilson to take a seat.

They sat in silence and downed their drinks, House pouring another round. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with the heels of both hands.

"Today's the day the baby would have been due if she hadn't miscarried," he said quietly. "That's why I asked for the sedation," he added, having noted Wilson's frown at the time.

"Oh, House, I didn't realise…" Wilson said, for once lost for comforting words.

"And today's the fourth time I've nearly lost her," House mused.

"What do you mean?"

"Well she could have died from the ectopic, if the haemorrhaging had been worse. And then she disappeared afterwards. She also could have died from the sepsis this time. That's three. And then there's today. Do you think there's something I need to learn from that? I mean, maybe I'm meant to let her go…?" he trailed off.

"House, I thought you'd decided to let her stay with you. You'd made up your mind and you…you even bought pillows."

"I know, I have, I had."

"House, how many times have you run after a woman to stop her from leaving you? How many times have you been sure enough about your feelings to want to take care of someone while they're ill?"

"Never, I know." House sighed.

"So, don't start doubting this now. She came back."

"But she didn't want to. She only did it because she couldn't physically get on a plane."

Wilson sighed. "I don't think that's true. But even if it is, now you've got a few more days at least to convince her."

House sat back and downed his drink.

"Perhaps you're right," he clunked his coffee mug down on the desk and started to rise. "I'm going home. I thought last night's sleep was enough, but after today I'm exhausted again."

"Understandable," Wilson also rose. "Let me know if you need anything over the weekend."

House smiled at his friend.

"Thanks."

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_Saturday morning_

House heard the sounds of Chloe's laughter as he approached her room. When he went inside, he saw that Wilson was sitting with her and Chloe was wiping tears from her eyes, one arm wrapped around her stomach.

"Stop, it hurts to laugh," she said, still giggling.

House wasn't sure whether to be relieved at Chloe's good spirits or concerned that his best friend and his lover appeared to be getting along famously. But all the same he shot Wilson a look of thanks – it was such a Wilson thing to do, to predict that House would be late and that Chloe would appreciate another visitor.

When she saw House she started laughing all over again, groaning through her giggles.

"Oh no, I'm going to pull out my stitches," she gasped. "Again!"

Wilson grinned broadly at House.

"What have you been telling her?" House asked, darkly.

"Oh, just a few stories from here and there," Wilson said brightly.

"Yes, but he has to stop now, seriously," Chloe said, trying to take deep breaths. She pulled a tissue from the box next to her bed and dabbed her eyes.

House didn't at all like that Wilson had been sharing without asking him first, but his relief at seeing Chloe happy was rapidly overcoming his annoyance.

Wilson rose from the chair next to Chloe's bed, offering it to House.

"I have to go now anyway," he said. "I'm only in today to catch up on some paperwork."

"Sure. As long as I find out what it was that caused such hilarity," House said warningly.

"No point, you already know the story," Wilson said, leaving the room.

House grumbled as Wilson left the room, but then turned to scan Chloe. He immediately noticed that she had an IV.

"Why…" he began and then grabbed the chart from the end of her bed.

Chloe guessed that he had noticed her new medication.

"I just had a little temperature, apparently, so they wanted me back on the IV antibiotics instead of just the pills," she explained.

"Who ordered it, Wright?"

"No, one of his doctors."

"He didn't come himself?" Chloe could hear the threat in House's voice.

"No. I don't think he likes us very much, do you?" She carefully chose to use "us".

House muttered under his breath as he studied the chart.

"You know, there's a reason you're not supposed to leave hospital_against medical advice_."

"Oh!" Chloe said brightly, sarcastically. "Is that what AMA stands for?"

House started to growl at her until he saw the sparkle in her eye and knew she was baiting him.

"Yeah, well, it's all fun and games until the bacteria come out to play again," he said witheringly.

He looked down at her chart again and his eyebrows raised.

"What?" Chloe asked, wondering what he had noticed.

"Nothing," he said, pulling a poker face. "I was just checking which antibiotic they had you on."

Chloe looked at him suspiciously, knowing there was more to it than that.

"You seem to have recovered from playing the part of a shrew-like homeless woman," House said, changing the topic.

"Homeless?" Chloe asked, offended.

"You, at the airport yesterday, looked about a million miles away from the chic corporate executive I know you to be."

Chloe blushed. "I wasn't really thinking about that at the time."

"You weren't really thinking at all, were you?" House couldn't help the heat in his voice.

Chloe wasn't sure how to play things. Should she submit now to what she knew were his superior arguing skills? Apart from anything else, he was actually right, it had been stupid to try to leave before she was ready. Or was it time to keep up the argument, to let him know that while he might have won the battle, he hadn't necessarily won the war? Just because he'd decided he wanted to look after her didn't mean she had to let him.

She decided on a mix of the two.

"No, I wasn't," she said meekly. "I'm sorry. But I still haven't made any decisions about what happens next."

House sighed in irritation. "At least tell me you won't try any more disappearing acts."

"I promise I will stay in the hospital until I'm properly discharged, but that doesn't mean I've decided to come stay with you. We need to talk more, but I don't have the energy for an argument right now. Is that okay?" Chloe's tone had become brusque, business-like.

"Fine." House answered in the same business-like tone.

He replaced the chart and then looked at her with a lopsided smile that completely disarmed her. She couldn't help but smile back.

"I still want to know what Wilson told you," he said.

"I know you do," Chloe replied, crossing her arms and letting him know that she wasn't about to start telling him. She gave him a thoughtful look. "You're lucky, you have some really nice friends."

House was a little taken aback. He hadn't really stopped to think about it.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"My friends are all mostly through work, but I travel so much I don't really get to have much of a social life," Chloe said, feeling a little wistful.

It made House think.

"Is there anyone else you'd like me to call? Do you need to call work?"

"No, I called last week and organised to take two weeks off. I didn't think this was how I'd be spending the time, but I guess it was just as well." Chloe paused, wondering whether or not to tell him that when she'd called, her boss had asked her to consider moving to New Jersey permanently. She decided she didn't need to go there just yet.

"Um, Chloe, I have work I need to do today," he began hesitantly. It was true, his team had paged him as he'd arrived at the hospital. Sick people in need of diagnosis didn't necessarily care that it was a weekend. And he'd just noticed something on her chart that meant he needed to go do some organising.

"Of course you do," she said, understandingly. "Go. We'll talk later." Chloe was feeling tired again anyway.

"Yeah, but before I do.." he paused, trying to find the right words. "I just wanted to find out…if…about…" he broke off, looking flustered. Chloe was concerned.

"What?"

"If you're…okay about yesterday."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused. Then her expression sobered and she just mouthed, "Oh."

She remembered. Yesterday was the day their baby had been due to be born, when they might have been in exactly the same position – her lying in a hospital bed, him at her bedside – but with a tiny new life lying in a crib by her side.

She couldn't help the tears that sprang to her eyes at that image, but for once she wasn't desperate in her sadness, what she felt was more like resignation, her grief now a familiar part of her.

"I guess no matter what might have happened, neither of us would have wanted this," House offered.

"It wasn't mean to be, Greg," she said, looking into his eyes. "It's always going to be part of me – part of us – but…"

He reached over and wiped the single tear that had rolled down her cheek with the back of a finger.

Eventually, Chloe sniffed and smiled sadly.

"Why don't you head off and do your work. I'm going to sleep for a bit. Maybe you could pop back at lunchtime?" she asked hesitantly.

"I could do that," House said. He rose and started to leave the room. "I need to tell you about the new quilt I bought to go with the new pillows too."

Chloe narrowed her eyes in warning. "Greg, don't do this now."

"Okay, but I haven't finished with you yet missy." He waggled a finger warningly at her before turning and leaving the room.

Chloe registered a strong pang of disappointment that he didn't kiss her goodbye before he walked out. She uttered a growl of frustration to the empty room.

"Get a grip, Chloe. You can't refuse his offer of help and then expect him to kiss you. Make a decision!" she muttered out loud.

She made herself more comfortable in the bed and reflected on some of the stories Wilson had recounted during his visit. She had to admit that some of the tales had shown her another side of Greg House, a vulnerable, caring side. Sure, Wilson had shared a few howlers too – like the one he'd been telling when House had walked in – but mostly his stories had focused on the patients he'd cared for, people whose lives he'd touched. Wilson had obviously selected stories to show her the picture of House that he thought she needed to know. He'd hinted at a vulnerable, romantic side to House that he wanted Chloe to respect and care for.

And at that she rolled her eyes as she realised just how expertly she'd been manipulated. _Ten points, James Wilson,_ she thought.


	20. Chapter 20

_Saturday afternoon_

Just as Chloe was starting to wonder if House had forgotten his promise to have lunch with her, he walked in, carrying flowers. Pale pink-and-white peonies in a long sheath, wrapped in pastel tissue.

She was touched; her room was bare and they were stunning, tasteful blooms.

He handed her the flowers and gave her a quick kiss that Chloe savoured long after his lips left hers.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Good. Not tap-dancing good, but relatively pain-free good."

"Excellent. Are you up for a little company?"

"What do you mean?" Chloe was confused. There wasn't anyone else to visit.

Then Wilson walked in carrying a white box, followed by three doctors she'd never met who seemed a little bewildered at being there.

Wilson set the box down on her tray table and opened it up, uncovering a large chocolate cake with pink frosting roses.

"Happy birthday," Wilson greeted her, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Chloe was amazed and a little overwhelmed. She'd totally forgotten it was her birthday – her fortieth. She looked up at House.

"You? Have you been planning this?"

House looked a little sheepish.

"Ah, actually no. I forgot until this morning when I noticed your birthdate on your chart."

Chloe smiled broadly. It didn't matter whether he'd organised it that morning or a month earlier, she was still deeply moved by his thoughtfulness.

Wilson gave her a beautifully wrapped gift that contained aromatherapy candles called 'Relax' and instructions to light them whenever she needed – _especially if you decide to go home with House_, Wilson added in a whisper.

She spent time chatting with House's fellows – the three doctors she hadn't met – House gruffly introducing them and hovering somewhat anxiously until all three of them received pages that called them away. Chloe harboured a suspicion that House may well have organised it.

Wilson started cutting the cake and there was a half hour of chaos as the word spread of free cake and nurses came from everywhere to grab a piece.The noise and excitement was wonderful, but Chloe quickly tired with the effort of keeping up with everyone and the conversation. Wilson nudged House when he noticed Chloe slumping a little in the bed, still smiling, but looking pale.

"Right everyone, out," House called.

A nurse collected up the now empty cake box and tidied up the room as everyone left. Eventually House and Chloe were left alone.

Chloe leaned back into the pillows, closing her eyes to rest for a moment.

House watched her for a while. Although he was still sure he knew what he wanted, he was scared about what it would be like to have her living with him, dependent on him. But then, he thought, as he eyed the curves of her breasts under the hospital gown, there was a lot to recommend the idea of her in his bed for an extended period of time. After that, once she got well… well, they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

He leant over and kissed her lightly.

"Happy birthday," he said quietly.

Chloe opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

"Thank you so much for my party. Here I was thinking that catching a _Buffy_ marathon on cable would be the best thing that would happen to me today."

House snorted a laugh.

"Well, I guess that is hard to top, but then again: chocolate cake."

"Mmm," Chloe agreed. "Kiss me again," she murmured, leaning up to him, catching his face with her hand and bringing it to hers.

She kissed him gently, lips just touching his, her eyes closing at the sensation. It took just a moment, but then House was kissing her back, bending over to reach her properly. He sat down on the edge of the bed, bringing one hand up to caress her cheek, leaning into her to explore her mouth thoroughly. Her tongue met his enthusiastically, one hand on his chest and the other at his neck, pulling him into her.

After long moments he pulled back, not wanting to take things to the point where he'd need to close the curtains and do very inappropriate things considering her medical condition.

Chloe opened her eyes slowly, having closed them as she'd felt the kiss deepen. She smiled up at him, wanting more, knowing it wasn't possible for now.

Something clicked into place as she looked at him.

"That was nice," she said, one hand still pressed to his chest.

House reluctantly pulled away from her.

"There's more where that came from," he said, his voice growly with desire.

"I know," Chloe said softly.

"I'm offering you twenty-four-seven access," he said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"I know," she said again.

She grasped his hand in hers and looked into his eyes deeply.

"Can I accept? Is it really okay? Do you really mean it?"

A sarcastic comment immediately sprung to mind, but for once House bit it back, knowing it wasn't the time.

"I really mean it."

Chloe smiled at him.

"Thank you."

"You accept?" House asked with a slightly incredulous tone.

"I accept."

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_Evening, a few days later_

House opened the door to his apartment and left it wide open. He turned to watch as Wilson helped Chloe slowly up the corridor and through the entrance.

"Sofa or bed?" House asked as brightly as he could muster, trying hard to play the part of the congenial host, but the sight of her limping through his doorway already had him feeling that this had been a terrible idea; feeling invaded, inadequate to the task, vaguely panicked.

"Um, bed, I think," Chloe said quietly, her concentration still on putting one foot in front of the other.

Wilson nodded curtly to House. House probably couldn't see it, but Wilson could feel how much Chloe was leaning against him, especially since they'd had to walk almost a block to the apartment from where they'd parked the car. She really needed to be lying down.

"Wow, clean sheets," Chloe admired as Wilson helped her into the bedroom.

"Yeah, well the last lot were pretty manky," House said.

"That would be my fault, I guess." Chloe gave him a weak smile.

"Yep."

"And just look at those fabulous pillows," Chloe said, giving House a weak, but cheeky smile.

House smiled back wanly.

Deliberately taking his time, Wilson gently manoeuvred Chloe onto the bed in a sitting position, then reached down and put his arm under her knees to help her swivel around and lie down. Once she was horizontal Chloe could feel how much the trip had cost her – she felt as if she'd run a marathon not just walked a block. She closed her eyes for a moment to rest, then opened them and smiled gratefully to Wilson.

"Thanks."

He could see the gratitude in her eyes.

"Welcome." He gave her a simple smile.

"What do you want to do now?" House asked, standing in the doorway as he watched Wilson tend to Chloe. He was still comprehending the idea that she was really there, in his home, dependent on him. He would have known what to do with a patient in the hospital, but this was Chloe, in his bed. He was at a loss.

"Sleep, I think," Chloe murmured, her eyes closing again.

Wilson pulled a throw rug from a chair and draped it over her, relieving her of the need to move again to get under the covers.

At the feel of the cloth over her, she smiled, but didn't think she had the energy to say anything more.

"I could use a beer," Wilson suggested, keeping his voice low. He was definitely picking up the panic vibes from House and decided it would be a good idea to stick around for a little while – at least until House calmed down.

House shrugged in agreement and he and Wilson walked out to the kitchen in silence, grabbing beers from the refrigerator and then taking seats on the sofa. They had clicked on the TV to a sports channel and had been watching for a just a few minutes when Chloe called out from the bedroom.

"Greg?" Her voice was wavering a little.

House looked at Wilson and rolled his eyes, a sarcastic gesture to cover the deep concern he immediately felt. A little voice told him that he wasn't cut out for this, that he couldn't cope. What had he been thinking inviting her to stay with him? How could he possibly take care of her when he could barely look after himself?

Wilson didn't make him feel better when, at House's hesitation, he just gave a warning look and a shrug that clearly communicated: _You said you wanted this…_

House nodded and put down his beer stoically, rising and walking up the corridor. When he reached the bedroom he took one look at Chloe and knew exactly what was wrong. He reached the side of the bed with the trashcan just in time to hold her hair back as she vomited. There wasn't much to come up, but he could tell that her body ached with the retches.

Wilson could hear what was happening and rose to grab a glass of water and wet a washcloth. When he walked into the bedroom he stood for a moment observing.

House was sitting on the bed next to Chloe, one hand grasping her hair in a bunch, the other lightly rubbing her back as she leant over the side of the bed. He was murmuring to her in reassuring tones that she was sick because she was exhausted, nothing more than that. Wilson smiled at the unexpected sight. After a moment, he unobtrusively handed the water and cloth to House, then went and stood back near the door in case he was needed for anything else.

"I haven't had anyone hold my hair back since my boyfriend in college after a tequila night. Ugh," Chloe said, shuddering at the recollection.

House helped her to sip the water and then get settled back in the bed. He handed her the cloth to wipe her face.

"Mmm, tequila." House said in mock delight. Then his face changed into a frown. "I want to hear more about this boyfriend. How long exactly did he hold your hair back for?"

"I don't remember, but it was a lot of tequila," Chloe bantered back, feeling better.

"Slammers or laybacks?"

"Worse. Sunrises."

House grimaced. "That's revolting."

"I know. I followed those with grasshoppers. You know that saying 'technicolour yawn'? I don't even want to think about it." She rested back, closing her eyes again.

House was struck by the fact that for once she hadn't apologised or thanked him. He was relieved and, for some reason, pleased with himself. The panic he'd been feeling started to recede. Maybe he could do this after all. Why would he question his instincts? After all, he never would with a medical decision.

He looked at her closely and smiled.

"How 'bout we get you into bed properly. Want me to grab your pyjamas?"

Chloe smiled bashfully and looked up at him with a shy pout in request. House rolled his eyes in response.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he said, rising and moving to his drawers, pulling one open and grabbing one of his t-shirts from within, tossing it onto the bed.

He looked over at Wilson, still standing in the doorway.

"Thanks, Wilson, but I've got this bit," he said, accusingly.

Wilson couldn't help blushing; House would have known full well that Wilson wasn't hanging around to cop a look at Chloe changing, but it still embarrassed him a little. He returned to the lounge.

House helped Chloe take off the light clothes he'd brought in for her to wear when she was discharged. He couldn't help the charge he got from seeing her breasts as she changed into his t-shirt and slid under the covers.

He leant over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, knowing she was tired and still nauseous.

"I'll just be out in the lounge with Wilson. Holler if you're going to holler again," he said.

Chloe nodded, eyes closed. She felt sick, but she felt so much better being at home than in hospital. She realised that she had just thought 'home' as being _her_ home, and of course it wasn't, but the feeling was the same. Safe, comfortable, relaxed. She sighed a little and felt herself drifting off to sleep.

House joined Wilson back on the sofa, collecting their beers from the table. They both stretched out their legs and crossed them, one ankle over the other, in unison.

Wilson took a long draught of his beer, then looked at House frankly.

"I think you're gonna be fine," Wilson said.

House nodded, took a drink and smiled a little to himself.

-------------------------------------------------------------

It was late when Wilson left. House saw him out, still vaguely nervous about him leaving, because after that it really was him alone with Chloe, no one else to help with looking after her. But short of asking Wilson to stay on the couch, there was no choice but to face it.

House cleaned his teeth and stripped to his boxers, climbing into bed gently, trying hard not to disturb Chloe. As he settled down he couldn't help the groan that left him from the ache in his shoulders. The bike ride he'd taken a few days previously to work out his thoughts had taken his leg a long time to recover from, and the need to lean more heavily on his cane had made his back and shoulders ache. With his left hand he tried to massage the tightness away.

Chloe stirred with the movement in the bed.

"Are you okay?" she asked sleepily.

"Fine, just a bit achy," he admitted. "Go back to sleep."

"Lie on your stomach," Chloe said, now awake, noting his attempt to massage his shoulder.

"What?"

"Oh, just do it," she encouraged.

House rolled over, lying flat, his arms by his sides. Chloe sat up, careful to find a position that didn't aggravate her surgical wound.

She began by running her hands over House's back, shoulders and arms, smoothing out over his skin. Then she started digging more deeply, pressing into the knots and whorls of his tense muscles. House groaned in pain and pleasure.

"Is that pressure okay?" Chloe asked, concerned.

"It's okay as long as you never stop," he growled between sighs and groans at the release of tension.

Chloe smiled and kept kneading, working out the contracted muscles.

After a long while she started to feel tired, and changed her movements to sweeping, long strokes, intended to pull the tension away from his shoulders, down his arms and out through his fingertips. She finished by running her thumbs firmly over his palms and pulling gently on the fingers of each hand – a movement that had House squirming in realisation that he couldn't do what he longed to do with the response she'd provoked, at least not for a week or so.

She lay back in the bed next to him, laying her arm over his with their palms pressed together, fingers lightly entangled, keeping the contact between them.

"You know," House began, turning his head to face her, "you're going to be well enough to go back to work in a couple of weeks."

"Yes…?" Chloe said, wondering what he was getting at.

"So I get to look after you for just a little while until you're well again."

"Hopefully," Chloe said.

"On the other hand, I'm always going to need looking after."

Chloe could hear the vulnerability in his voice, the need, and also the vague embarrassment at making the admission.

"You've managed so far," she said lightly.

"Yeah. But not very well."

"Think you need some help?"

House took in a deep breath.

"Probably could use it," he admitted.

"Well, I guess I'd better hang around then," Chloe said, smiling.

"Go to sleep," House said, turning on his side and reaching out to hug her to him.

Chloe snuggled into his warmth.

"Okay. See you in the morning," she said quietly.

"G'night," House said, breathing deep, inhaling the scent of her skin, feeling her warmth under his arm. Knowing he wanted to wake up to it tomorrow and for a long time to come.

THE END

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**A/N:** Thank you so much to everyone who made this my most reviewed story ever! It has been very exciting logging into email each morning to find reviews waiting for me. Now I'm completely addicted! Which means I have to get moving on a new story so I can start posting and feed my addiction again soon. For those of you out there that have been reading and have yet to leave a review, now's your chance to earn some really great karma…

Special thanks to Ladyfr who was the beta of the original story which morphed and changed a lot as it went, thanks to her encouragement.

Special thanks also to Sokerchick, Momsboys, Chicagochicklett, Gypsy71, Jennifer, and RavenDiesel who've been there and reviewed all along the way. You guys rock!

And thanks to House and Chloe for letting me meddle with their lives again. I've already been asked about a sequel (another one!) – there's nothing currently planned, but you never know, so stay tuned.


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